Leather and Lace
by Emerald-Kisses
Summary: AU Welcome to a world of sensuality and eroticism.Mimi is a submissive sex therapist and Yamato is a dominant cop.What happens when their worlds mix and in order to chase down the killer they must put their hearts on the line?MIMATO.R&R COMPLETE!
1. A Simple Request

**Full Summary:**

** Welcome to Erotika's, a place where all of your fantasies will be fulfilled in a night of passion, lust, and pain. A night where those achign to be submissive, or the ones yearning to be dominant, can live their dreams and be what they are meant to be. _Master and Slaves._  
But life is not perfect here. There have been murders, deaths of several clients. Double-murders focused solely on those who enjoy the sexual feel of pain.  
Ishida Yamato is the one searching for the killer, while at the same time, fulfilling his needs to be a Dom.  
Tachikawa Mimi is a world-renown sex therapist, asked to create a psychological profile of the killer. All the while, she leads a double-life as an erotic Sub.  
They meet in chaos and fight to find the answers they seek. Together, using strength, power, and wit, they fight to find the criminal and obtain justice. But will their passion get in the way of their duty? They have put everything on the line, including their hearts...**

**End of summary.  
**

** I'm back. With a Mimato, no doubt! Ages and so forth will be given in the fic, as well as occupations.  
**

**WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS A MIXTURE OF REFERENCES OF YAOI/YURI/RAPE AS WELL AS SCENES INVOLVING BONDAGE AND MURDER. IF ANY OF THESE THINGS OFFEND YOU, I SUGGEST YOU GO BACK NOW! DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME LATER ABOUT IT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Toei/FoxKids/Digimon or anything relevant to Digimon.**

**Note: as the warning states above, the sexual acts performed in this fic will have some relation or another to bondage, whether it is a full-out bondage scene, or a sexual scene with slight bondage references (such as the minor use of handcuffs). If you do not enjoy those types of scenes, I will be warning ahead of time, so that you may skip the chapter, or you can altogether ignore this fic. Do as you please.**

** Rated R for: sexual content, murder, rape, references to yaoi/yuri, and bondage.**

**Please enjoy the fic, and try to listen to my warnings. They are there so that nobody complains. Thanks. **

**  
IMPORTANT UPDATE: This is reposted for a couple of very minor changes. The first one is found in the brief description of Setsuna (her hair is now changed to brown, as opposed to blonde). The second one is when Yamato is listing the clubs. I have simply switched the places of Erotika's and Cruella's for it to make sense with Chapter 6.  
If I had no switched them, my chapters would have contradicted one another.  
**

**Thanks. (Other than those minor changes, the rest is the same.)  
**

**  
Chapter 1**

**A Simple Request**

The rhythm was fast, the music pounding loudly against their ears as the bodies shifted and moved, rubbed and arched on the floor, coated in layers of sweat, breath gasping from their lips as the pace increased. Arms waved, legs twisted, bodies turned and twined around one another in sensual poses, erotic caresses, sweat sluicing down the bodies as they exchanged touches, embraces and rubbed against one another in the quick rhythm.

Gasping cries, moaned out shouts were heard across the floor, just barely audible about the thumping music, material rubbing, friction decreasing as their bodies grew slicker from perspiration. The need to touch, the need to feel contact increased with time, the need growing into a aching, incessant desperation to be in contact with another, to feel them against their body, to make love without it being sexual.

Her body ached with that need, to rub up against someone and purr, to have someone, anyone, run their hands down her body and make her gasp with pleasure. Her hair stuck to her face, clinging to the back of her neck as she danced wildly, her gray eyes aglow with pleasure and want, darkening with need and yearning. She wanted to be touched; she needed to be shown just how pleasurable it could be to be taken by a stranger.

Gasping for air, her parched throat screamed at her for a drink, for a simple sip of something, anything to moisten her throat and enable her to moan as hands gently brushed against her bared flesh.

She didn't want to leave the throng, she didn't want to feel bare, exposed, and lonely, away from their roaming hands and gasping breaths, but she needed to hydrate or she would pass out soon.

Slipping through the groups, reveling in the feel of their bodies brushing hers, she fought back small moans of pleasure before arriving at the bar. Her body grew cold from the lack of touch, feeling lonely and apart from the rest, aching for their touch.

Gasping out her request to the bartender, she leaned back against the barstool beside her, watching as the crowd moved in one, thumping and dancing to the beat as though it were one entity that shifted with every change in sound.

That's when her eyes fell on him, the one she would take that night, the one who's hands would touch her bare body and bring her to a climax. He was tall, not one of the tallest men in the world, but his physique screamed sensuality.

Thanking the bartender for the drink, she carried it with her through the crowd, sipping as she moved and bobbed to the beat, sliding and slipping, making her way towards the object of her desires.

His back was to her, the bare shoulder blades covered in colourful tattoos, his hair long and dark, sticking to the back of his neck as hers was doing.

Finishing off her drink, she managed to put it onto a nearby table before running her hands down his back and firmly grasping his buttocks.

He spun around, green eyes aglow with amusement and pleasure, and his lips curled into a teasing smile as he caught sight of the small vixen standing before him. Growling with consent, he caught onto the look in her eyes before lowering his lips to hers.

In what felt like seconds, her body was being slammed up against a wall as his lips tore furiously from hers, dragging them down her body, biting at her throat, bruising her olive-toned flesh. Standing upright, he pulled away, growling with pleasure before raising her arms roughly above her head, cinching the shackles tightly shut around her thin wrists.

Leaning forward, he groaned out dark promises and carnal delights, causing her body to tighten further with need, moisture pooling at the juncture of her thighs. His hand slipped right in that spot, finding the pool of pleasure-induced liquid and he cupped the moist heat, reveling in the feel of her hot and ready against him.

The taunting was rough, his touch hard and powerful against her body, his hands bruising. The ball gag only made it more pleasurable, and she gasped each time the paddle hit her buttocks. It was what she had wanted all night, to find a man strong enough, and willing enough to teach her a lesson, to treat her like the sub she was.

This man, with his ragged breathing and forceful touch sent her careening over the edge of pleasure, making her mind spin with need each time he just breathed on her exposed, heated flesh.

The hours went by as minutes, the time flying as their need increased, until he finally took her, protected and safe, making her cry and weep with pleasure as his touch grew rougher, harder, and he forced her down hard against the bed. He took her until he was spent and satiated, and only then did he pull away, gasping for air as quickly as she did, before leaning forward to unsnap the shackles and free her from their binding.

As they lay there, spent and pleased, their bodies lax and permeable from the rough sex, they did not notice the sound of the door unlocking, nor did they feel the prickling sensation that should have gone down their spines.

Only when the shadow loomed over them did they glance and cry out.

* * *

It was 4 AM, dark outside, cold, and raining, and he was not happy one bit. Not only did he not get one sip of coffee, but also he was horny as hell, having been woken up from a pleasurable dream just twenty minutes before. Furthermore, he was infuriated, irritated as fuck, because of the two bodies that lay before him.

Cursing under his breath, Ishida Yamato, otherwise known as Matt, squatted before the female's body, lying prone and dead on the floor of the gazebo in the park. Her body was positioned so that she sat, and he scowled deeply at the cuts marks that marred her flesh.

Blood had pooled around her body, much of which came from between her legs, which called for a further inspection, and questioned what kind of rape had been involved. Her brown hair was matted together from the blood, and he cursed anew as he examined her face and throat, noting that her throat had been slit, and that a blunt object had been rammed against the back of her head.

Beneath the blood were bruises, but he knew that those were formed well before the first attack on her body; the lover beside her proved it true.

The man's hair was dark, masking any sight of blood that might be in it, but it shone in spots where the liquid had been present and dried. His mouth was slack, hanging slightly open, as though he had been in mid-cry when the final blow had taken place.

He, too, had his throat slit open, and a blunt object had also hit the back of his head. Unfortunately for Matt, blood seeped through the crotch of the boxers the man wore, and he knew that all the men, including himself, in the force would be gripping their own crotches at the sight that waited underneath the thin, blue material.

Sighing heavily, he continued to look over the bruised, murdered forms, cranky as hell, wanting to be anywhere except for her, be heading to the duty that surrounded his very life.

This had been the third double murder in the past three-four weeks, and, fortunately, he didn't know these two either. The woman had probably been new to the scene, made obvious by the simple collar she wore just below the slit. It was soft, of a silky material, and was now glued to her skin, saturated in blood.

Standing, he pulled out his notebook, jotting notes down as he jerked his head for the CSI crew to begin taking pictures and collecting evidence. As the crew moved forward, he moved further away before standing beside his partner, Detective Yagami Taichi.

Tall, with short brown hair and matching hazel eyes, Tai was the immediate image on had when thinking about a slacker, with messy hair, and clothes that were constantly clashing or wrinkled, Tai was always the butt of the jokes involving style. But the cheerful, 27-year-old took the jokes with absolute joy, relishing in the fact that many of the force thought his style to be unique to him.

According to him, there was just something wrong with him; it was the way he was born and couldn't do anything about it.

"Nice picture, eh?" Tai asked, turning to Matt as the two men stood under the tarp, protecting the workers from the rain and the majority of the feeble wind. It had been quite fortunate that the bodies had been dumped in a gazebo surrounded by trees; it was protected from the rain, and not a drop had fallen into the white structure.

"Oh, definitely. I just love seeing two people lying dead on the sidewalk." He turned to his partner. "I'm willing to bet that they met up at one of the clubs last night, too."

"Which one do you think it is?" Tai glanced down at the list of BDSM oriented clubs; all of the victims had met up at local BDSM clubs, had sexual intercourse, and had died the very night they had met. The last couple they had found had come from Dungeon, a local role-playing BDSM club where people dressed up, met, and later performed carnal acts, either at home or in the private rooms inside the club.

Matt shrugged. "So far, they've hit Erotika and Dungeon, the only other two clubs in that ring are Cruella and Whiplash. So, we won't know until we check them for I.D., check their homes, and find the passes for whichever club they were at." He sighed. "I really hope that we get a lead on this, and soon; I'm sick and tired of being called so fucking early in the morning to find another scene like this."

Tai chuckled in response. "I definitely agree with you on that one. Third one in the past month, and it's not looking good for us. The Commander is going to start giving us a time limit, soon, or he'll hand the case over to another squad." He glanced at his partner. "And that would suck."

"It would suck giant balls, that's what it would suck. So what we have to do is find a lead on this case, somebody sees a strange man or woman, somebody is seen slipping something into their drinks, anything to give us a slight lead as to who's behind this. All we know is that the person responsible is only focused on the BDSM community, most likely because of a thorn in his side concerning the community, or something along those lines. He definitely does not like people who practice that."

Tai gestured to the couple, which was being photographed. "Obviously." He glanced at his own notebook, which held little information pertaining this particular murder; more information would come once the CSI team processed the crime scene. "Okay, anything new on this scene?"

Matt swallowed thickly at the question, noting in his mind the answer and fighting the urge to cup himself. "Yeah, obvious sexual abuse on the male, and a definite harming of his penis. His boxers are _covered_ in blood, so we can only guess as to what the perpetrator did."

Tai shuddered at that, actually cupping himself tightly, fighting back the sudden onslaught of images that involved castration, or worse. "Ugh, please, let's not talk about his defiled manhood, thanks. Okay, anything else? Please, _anything_ else, anything other than information involving what's left inside the man's boxers."

"Not really. Except for the fact that the woman was raped with an object; the last two did not bleed so much, so we can only come to think that the killer most likely used an object, something large, something that would cut her up badly enough." He grimaced, turning to Tai. "Miyako's not going to like that thought, eh?" he added, mentioning one of the cops working on the case with them.

"No, I'm pretty sure she'll be grabbing herself, too. To be honest, I think the girl definitely had it worse; the guy just gets it torn off or whatever, she had to feel every little thing." The brunet shuddered in revulsion. "Ugh. Okay, let's think about something else. The dumping spot is different, but the same. Still a very public location, and the bodies are wearing obvious BDSM clothing. They're handcuffed together, like the other couples, and he has the whip around his neck, again, like the others. Anything else that's different other than the sexual abuse?"

Matt tilted his head, looking at the crime scene, looking at the bruised, bloodied faces of the victims. He frowned slightly, and stepped closer, slipping on a pair of foot covers before stepping into the gazebo and kneeling before the woman. His eyes lit in sudden realization and recognition.

"Tai! Get your ass over here! I know this woman!"

* * *

"_In latest news, just last night, another couple was found dead in a pubic area, this time a park. Like the other two, the couple was wearing typical BDSM clothing, which consists of leather outfits, and sadomasochistic tools used during sexual intercourse."_

A loud snort sounded as the volume was raised on the television screen, a long, slender hand holding the remote, pressing the button with a finger that was finely manicured and painting a dark, purplish burgundy.

"Yeah, all right, I love how repulsed you sound, lady. Just keep giving us the report, and try not to sound too disgusted. Thanks."

"_Iori, whose last name we are not permitted to announce, and Setsuna Hiragusawa were found at approximately 3:45AM last night, in the local park. Iori was well known throughout the BDSM community, but still a beginner, while Hiragusawa Setsuna was the daughter of Hiragusawa Junpei, a prominent lawyer and banker. Details on the investigation are still unknown, as well as details pertaining to the death."_

The woman arched a neatly plucked brow at the names, scowling faintly as the tried to remember the male. Iori, she had known as few people named Iori, but none of which were new to the community. The reporter was probably trying to make him sound more prominent than he actually was. Well, there was nothing wrong with that.

"_The police as issuing a warning to all those who practice BDSM and are participators in the BDSM community to be careful, report anything you deem to be strange, and to be cautious when traveling at night. The police state that if you must walk at night, to walk in a group larger than two. More details will follow."_

Running a hand through her long, ebony hair, the woman sat back on her bed, no longer focused on painting her toenails to match her fingernails. This had been the third murder she has heard this month, and the third time she has worried incessantly about whether or not it would be one of her friends. She had already been to one funeral this month, and she wasn't planning on going to another one.

Sighing heavily, she leaned forward and restarted the process she had interrupted, focusing all of her attention on painting her toenails perfectly. Her whiskey eyes glowed with concentration as she tried not to think about the threat that was being posed upon her community.

At 25, she was proud to say that she had been part of the community for the past four years, and was not thinking about quitting anytime soon. The thought of a man's rough touch against her skin, the feel of a whip cracking against her bare flesh, the ragged, rough sound of his voice rasping out commands to her made her skin tingle with pleasure. She would never, ever be able to have sex any other way.

Tachikawa Mimi was a submissive, and planned on being one for the rest of her life; it was the best way to have sex, in her opinion. To simply let him dominate, to be tied down and screwed until she could no longer feel, to do exactly what her Dom wanted her to do until she was numb with pleasure.

That was the life she wanted to live.

But first, she had to go to work.

Blowing on her toes, she waited a few minutes while the polish dried, before getting up and walking around, rummaging through her drawers for a knee-length, pencil skirt, and a simple, white blouse. Before yanking on the skirt, she tugged on a pair of mid-thigh high stockings, which had vertical stripes of dark sheer material, and flesh coloured material. She felt like a naughty librarian in them. She had a meeting today, and had to look her best; she was hoping for a pay raise.

A knock sounded on her door, and she replied loudly to admit the person on the other end, slipping the pants on her long, lean legs as the door opened.

Her roommate and best friend for over ten years, Takenouchi Sora, stuck her head into the room, glancing at the ebony-haired woman.

"Mimi, you're running late." The woman's hazel eyes glowed with concern.

"I know I am. It's not my fault I needed to paint my nails." She bent over, picking up the blouse and sliding it on. "The last guy I was with told me that painted toenails are sexy, so I figured, why not."

Laughing, Sora stepped into the room, helping Mimi by handing her the hairbrush when requested, or her make-up. She always wondered how a woman could have hair as long as Mimi did; her own auburn hair was cut into an ear-length, wavy bob that accented her sharp features.

Mimi ran the brush through her waist-length hair, watching her friend pick up nail polish, or containers of eye shadow, and she knew that the tanned woman was examining them, trying to figure out which one she would ask to use that night before they went out.

Sora was the absolute opposite of Mimi, at least in some ways; Mimi was pale, while Sora was faintly tanned, Mimi was more focused on music, while Sora enjoyed sports and being active, Sora was tall and lean, while Mimi was shorter and willowy, and Mimi was a straight Sub, while Sora was a bisexual Domme. It made things a bit awkward at first, when Mimi had learnt of Sora's true orientation, but after many promises made by the brunette, Mimi finally acknowledged the fact that Sora would never, ever try to sleep with her or make any moves on her. It's a promise that had been kept for nearly eight years.

"What time do you finish work at today?"

"What? Oh! I'm supposed to finish at around five, so we'll have time to eat before going out." Mimi turned to face her friend, gathering her hair up and tying it into a long, high ponytail. "Where do you want to go tonight?"

"How about we just stick to the usual?" She handed Mimi a bobby pin to keep a section of her hair flat. "We'll go by Erotika's; Tai said that he was going to be there, anyways."

"Yeah, but he's there _every_ night. The only other place he'll go to is Cruella's, but that's only if you're there."

Sora laughed at that. "Well, that is because he's my Sub, and nobody else's. Jeez, Mimi, haven't you learnt anything in the past four years?"

She sat on her bed, pulling a pair of high heels over her small feet, tightening the straps around her ankles. "Okay, sure, and you've only been in the scene for one year more than me."

"Yeah, but that one year counts. Don't forget your notes."

"I won't, I won't, I can't forget them; all of my information is in there, and I really want to do good so that I can get the pay raise."

Sora laughed, following Mimi out of the bedroom down to the kitchen of their two-story duplex, listening to the constant clack of the high heels on the wooden floors. Although it was not tradition to wear shoes inside the home, Mimi was in a rush, and needed to leave as soon as she could to catch the train.

"Mimi, you're going to grab something to eat before you leave, right?"

Spinning around, she nearly fell over in the entranceway at the sound of Sora's semi-scolding voice. Her eyes widened in confusion that lasted only a moment before she smiled brightly at her roommate. "Depends. Are you going to toss me an apple or something?"

"Maybe." There was a teasing lilt to her voice as Sora went into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a water bottle and apple for the young therapist. Tossing the objects in her direction, she laughed as the flustered woman dropped the bottle and just barely caught the apple in her hands.

Watching as the woman picked up the bottle, Sora laughed loudly. "You know, you have to _catch_ what I throw at you, or there's no point to me tossing it at you in the first place."

"I know, I know." Sighing, she stood. "You're so mean sometimes." She opened the door, managing to grab a leather jacket hanging from the coat rack. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye. Have fun with your psycho patients!"

Sora turned away, laughing to herself, before sitting down at the kitchen table, relaxing on her day off. She sent out a silent prayer for her friend, hoping that she would get the pay raise. She then picked up the phone lying beside her, dialing Tai's number as she wondered if her good old, Sub cop was free for a few hours

* * *

The Itashi Institute was a towering, glass building, standing on the corner of a block in downtown Odaiba. It was a tower of brilliant, tinted glass that shone in the light in shades of green and navy, reaching up and touching the puffy, white clouds that dotted the cerulean sky.

The dark car pulled up and into the underground parking lot, pedestrians dodging the vehicle as it moved forward, people chattering loudly at they littered the streets. Cars honked as kids rushed into the street, yearning to be on time for their classes, cursing the alarm clocks that had decided not to go off in time.

Silence swallowed the car as I went into the humid, yet modernized underground lot, blocking out the loud, vibrant sounds from outside. Cool air filled the lot, and, as the driver rolled down his window to pay for access, the air swept into the heated vehicle, soothing the passengers.

The car found a spot in a dark, shadowed corner, and the three passengers climbed out of the vehicle at once, clad in black trousers, white shirts, and matching, black jackets, which were undone on all three. Ishida Yamato turned to his partners, Yagami Taichi and tall, dark-haired Ichijouji Ken, whose blue eyes shone brilliantly in the faint light.

"All right, the only thing we're here for is for the top sex therapist so that he can analyze and, possibly, help us figure out who's next. Got it? No, 'good cop, bad cop' stuff, and remember, we're not here to question, but to add to our team. Got it?"

Tai and Ken nodded at their superior, and began the short walk from the car to the elevator that led them upstairs.

"Oh, wait, hold on a second, okay?" Tai paused mid-step as his phone began to vibrate. He loudly cursed. "This is the _third_ time she's called me today! Hold on just a second while I tell her I have a job." Turning away, Tai answered the phone, a grimace painted to his face.

"Hey babe." His voice rose with a false happiness. "How are you? Oh, that's good. I'm good, too. I'm also at work." He sighed. "Yes, I told you I might be taking my break at this hour, but note the word _might_. I know, I know, you wanted me to call you and all, but it's not my fault if this is the only time we can do this." He muttered a low curse. "Do what? Oh, just something pertaining to an on-going investigation. Yes, yes. Look, I'll talk to you later. Don't call me; I'll call you, got it? Good. I love you too. Bye."

Snapping the phone shut, Tai cursed anew, rejoining his comrades as they stood, watching him with amusement glittering in their eyes.

"Sora?" Matt posed the question; him and Tai had been friends for several years, and he had known about Tai's relationship with Sora since the two had begun dating a year before.

"Yeah. She's always calling me."

Ken pressed the button to the elevator, and the trio waited patiently.

"Why does she call you so much?" This came from Ken.

"To be honest, I don't know. She just calls me a lot. I think she's most likely insecure." They climbed into the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor, where they would speak with the secretary.

Matt and Ken laughed aloud at that. They had seen Tai with Sora before, and knew of her dominating tendencies; Tai was always the perfect, little sub for her, while she was anything but insecure. However, they did know just how much they loved one another, and that Sora constantly called because she just wanted to make sure that Tai was all right.

Several minutes later, they were walking down the green, carpeted hallway leading them to the offices of the top sex therapists in the Itashi building. Although the Itashi Institute was more known for its sex therapists, it was also quite well known for other therapists of various kinds, such as those used for patients with depression, or someone dealing with severe grief. Thus, the need for a minimum of 15 floors; each floor was designated for a certain type of therapist, and the higher the floor, the more a therapist made, and the more renown her or she had.

At the end of the short hallway, they reached a large, open waiting area, where a secretary sat behind an oak desk, answering phone calls, making appointments with patients who requested for psychological aid.

The thin, short woman brushed back a strand of her frizzy, blonde hair before her blue eyes caught sight of the three men in the doorway. Matt stepped forward, flashing his badge to the secretary, before leaning forward.

"Hello," he leaned forward to see her nametag, "Isuzu, My partners and I called earlier about the need for a sex therapist for a case. I was wondering where I could find her."

"Oh, oh dear." She woman shuffled through the papers, obviously flustered at the sight of the powerful, sexual men before her. All three of them had bodies to die for, and her heart fluttered wildly at the sheer sight of them. "Oh, yes, Lieutenant Ishida, you can find her just down the hallway, third door on the left. She's currently in a meeting right now with the head of the Institute. They should be getting out in just a few minutes."

Matt nodded as he returned the identification badge to his inside breast pocket, before thanking the woman and turning away. Gesturing to his men, the two followed him out of the waiting area, leading them down the hallway until they found the door they were searching for.

The knock was loud and sharp, echoing throughout the silent hall as though it were the sound of impending doom. The voices on the other end ceased, pausing in mid-sentence at the sound of the loud rap. There was a sharp, commanding whisper, before the door was flung open by a confused, tall man.

His face was formed into a scowl, and his dark eyes glittered with discontent at the idea of the meeting being interrupted.

Matt did not wait for any special introductions, getting straight to the point by flashing his identification badge. "Lieutenant Ishida Yamato, and these are my partners, Detective Yagami Taichi, and Detective Ichijouji Ken. We called earlier to inform you about an interview with a potential outside aid in an on-going investigation. The appointment was set for this time."

The man's scowl deepened at the words, and his eyes darkened in leashed irritation. "Well, Lieutenant, you are going to have to wait for a while; we are not done our meeting, and would like to finish it."

Nodding, Matt stepped back slightly, noting the furious glare the man gave them; he obviously disliked police, most likely for personal reasons.

"That's all right. I understand. We have meetings, too. We'll just wait outside for the time being and let you finish up. I'm certain that it should not take too long."

Waiting until the man had shut and locked the door, Matt turned to the other two men, his lips curled downwards into a frown. "I guess we're going to have a few problems getting him to agree to this."

"Obviously," Tai added. "I don't think he likes cops very much."

Ken leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Amazing observation, Tai, really, I can see why you became a cop." The sarcasm in his voice was thick but expected of him when someone made an obvious statement. "But I do agree with Matt, this man is going to make it very difficult, which is, obviously, not a good thing concerning the case. We need easy access to the therapist, and having him in the way will definitely not help."

Sighing heavily, Matt followed Ken's actions, taking a spot against the wall, leaning comfortably against the painted, pale blue surface. "I don't like him. He's done something in the past, something to deserve to have been in shit with the law before, and he doesn't like it. He's going to try as hard as he can to ensure that we don't get a therapist from here. But he can't make all the decisions, there is something known as free will."

* * *

Mimi sat as the long, rectangular table, twirling a piece of loose hair around her finger as her boss, Itashi Kyou, paced back to his seat at the front of the table. His forehead was creased with lines as he grimaced, obviously irritated as fuck. Leaning back in her seat, she looked over her notes, patiently waiting as the man made his final, brief speech, debriefing them from their meeting.

As the men and women gathered up their papers and notes, he cleared his throat loudly, making all ten of the people pause mid-motion, staring up at the older man in confusion.

"Tachikawa-san, I would like for you to stay a little longer afterwards; we need to discuss something."

All eyes fell upon the young woman, and she swallowed thickly, apprehension and excitement filling her body. Maybe she was going to get her pay raise. She could only pray to Kami-sama that this was the reason behind the man's actions and words. But, what if she had done something wrong? What if he actually wanted to fire her? That was not good, not good at all.

Her stomach twisted in apprehensive fear as she thought of the variety of possibilities.

Nodding, she forced a smile to her lips. "Hai, Itashi-shacho. I'll wait, it's all right."

Standing, a tall, blonde woman frowned down at the brunette. Her blue eyes glittered in the same apprehension that was currently taking hold of Mimi's body. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Mimi-san?"

Mimi smiled up at her friend and coworker. "Yes, I'm sure Izumi-san. I mean, it's not like it's going to be anything _that_ bad." She laughed. "Go off and deal with your grieving patients. I hope you don't get another one crying 'cause her frog died or something."

Laughing aloud, Izumi Orimoto tossed her hair over her shoulder, before gathering her notes and exiting the room.

Just moments after the door shut, Mimi watched as Kyou went over to the door, poked his head out, and muttered a few words to whomever was on the other side. He turned and faced her, a grim look on his face, and he flung open the door.

**Note: I have this set up for all fics. I refuse to post a second chapter until I get at least two-three reviews. It isn't much to ask for. So please review. Thanks.**

**Ciao. **


	2. Profiling Psychos

**Here I am, with Chapter 2. Thanks for the kind reviews; I was quite uncertain as to whether or not this story would even get any. But I'm glad to see that it has been getting a few reviews.**

**I just want to note, for those who don't know, that the word 'shacho' is added to someone's name in Japan if they are of a higher rank professionally. And it's only added when people are speaking directly to the person. Also, san or chan are used when talking to someone you barely know, so they are not used to a close friend or relative.  
At least, that's what I understood from Wikipedia. Haha. **

**If I'm getting something wrong in that, please notify me so I may change it. Thanks.**

**Anyways, here's my second installment. **

**Chapter 2**

**Profiling Psychos**

The door swung open with a bang as Kyou put all of his force into throwing it open; it was obvious that he was currently trying to control a strong and powerful rage that threatened to consume him. Mimi was not sure why he was so furious; it was quite confusing, until she saw the three men walk into the room.

They oozed strength, power, sensuality, and dominance; all clad in the matching black slacks, white tops, and unbutton jackets. The clothes covered yet enhanced their muscular bodies, tightening slightly when they moved their arms; the slacks brushing against finely toned legs that only months of training could be accomplished.

The first one that she caught sight of was on the far right, well, her right, and it was because he did not appear as old as the other two, maybe a couple years younger. He was not as tall as the other two, either, and his dark hair was worn long, falling just above his shoulders. His blue eyes were piercing, their gaze sharp and taking in every aspect of the room. She could only wonder whether or not some of the therapists would have a field day with this man.

The man on the far left was taller, maybe around 6', and although his body oozed dominance, there was a thick undertone of submission, almost as though he enjoyed being a sub. Her brow arched curiously as she took in his appearance. His brown hair was slightly ruffled, unruly and the shortest of the three men, most likely because it was less uncontrollable when shorter. His brown eyes were focused on Kyou, almost as though he did not trust the man, and they held the same emotions and appearance as the other brunet. They were calculating and sharp. She knew that she would most likely have a field day with him.

Finally, her eyes fell upon the man in the center, and, although the other two were extremely sensual, she actually felt her breath escaped her lungs in a rush and her heart flutter against her chest. This man screamed sensual dominance, with his tall, at the very least 6'1", muscular, body, and dark blond hair that fell just below his ears. His eyes were the most vivid cerulean she had ever seen, with not a single mixture of green or gray, they made her think of a clear sky on a cloudless day. But she knew, deep down, that they would be dark as a stormy heaven when aroused. His pores oozed sexual power, dominance, and eroticism. Just the thought of the man made her mouth water with anticipation, and her body tighten in places she never knew would tighten. This man was the leader; she knew it because of his stance and the way the other men drew to the side, and his gaze was focused solely on her.

"Tachikawa-san." Kyou's words pulled her out of her transfixed state, and she jerked her head towards her boss.

"Hai, Itashi-shacho?"

"These men are here to speak with you. I'll let them make the introductions."

The blond man turned to face her boss and scowled down at him. "Itashi-chan, I would prefer it if you left the room during the meeting; if she accepts, information will be discussed that is not to be known publicly."

Kyou's faced reddened with furious embarrassment and he grimaced in the blond man's direction. "This is my company, I am gracing you the time and access to _my_ people, and I expect you to show me courtesy and respect. I refuse to leave the room until she makes her decision, and even then, I may consider leaving the room. Understood?"

"Itashi," the man cut out the 'chan', showing a great disrespect towards the man, "I suggest that you leave. I do not want anyone influencing her decision on this; it is to her and solely her decision, and I do not think that you would _not_ try to influence her choice. Therefore, you will leave the room, or I can have you arrested for resisting a police officer." He then added at Kyou's dumbfounded, disbelieving look, "I can do that."

Letting out low curse, the man gathered his notes, before huffing out of the room, giving the blond man a sharp, angry glare. "Baka."

As the door slammed shut, the black-haired man waited a few moments, before opening it, a look of surprise on his face when he found the hallway empty. However, Mimi noted that he examined the doorframe, doorstep, and even the table across from the door. She figured that he was probably looking for any bugs or devices that might record their conversation; she'd read enough police novels to comprehend his actions, and her job required for her to examine and analyze human behaviour.

Leaning back in her seat, Mimi sighed, crossing her legs carefully, shifting the material so it covered enough of her thighs; the slit on the left side always showed off more than she wanted shown. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she watched as the man shut the door and rejoined the other two.

That's when the blond man flashed the badge. Police. What the hell were the police doing here? The even more trivial question was; what did they want with _her_? Was it because of her link with the BDSM community? Did she not pay for a speeding ticket or parking ticket? Had she even gotten one within the past year?

Sighing heavily, she couldn't help but arch a brow in the direction of the men, giving them, what she hoped was, an innocent, questioning look.

Within the few seconds those thoughts raced through her head, the blond placed the badge back in his pocket, and proceeded to speak.

"I'm Lieutenant Ishida Yamato, and my partners here are Detectives Yagami Taichi, and Ichijouji Ken." He gestured to the men on either side, Taichi being the owner of the unruly hair, and Ken the owner of the piercing, blue eyes.

Yagami.

Taichi Yagami.

That name rang a familiar bell.

"_Tai said that he was going to be there."_

…

"_Well, he is my Sub…"_

Her eyes widened with shock and sudden realization, before the flung herself out of the seat into a standing position.

"Taichi? As in Tai? As in, Tai-Sora's-Sub-Tai?"

Tai arched a brow in confusion before he turned to Matt. "Matt, who are we interviewing?"

Matt looked down at the paper before him, and before he got to speak a word, Mimi spoke up, "Tachikawa Mimi. I'm Sora's roommate. We've met before, don't you remember? At the club."

Recognition hit Tai like a brick, and he grinned broadly. "Mimi! Now I remember you! You wore all those chains and stuff?"

Blushing darkly, Mimi looked down at the table, poking at her notes. "Uh, yeah, yeah, all the chains and … _stuff_." She would get him back for that remark.

"Tai, I know you guys would probably want to recollect on all those amazing times you had together, but we have a job to do."

Oh, his voice was so dark and sultry. His voice was thick, like sensual, sinful dark chocolate that coated her body in a layer so thick she never thought she would be free of it. She actually wanted to rub her body up against his a purr.

"Oh, yeah, right, sure. Sorry 'bout that Lt."

Oh, how she wanted to call him Lieutenant while he took her and used her body in bed. She wondered what he used his handcuffs for in spare time.

"Are you going to handcuff me?"

As soon as the words spilled from her lips, a dark blush coated her cheeks, and she busied herself by fidgeting with her papers.

Amusement glittered in the men's eyes, but only Tai knew the double-entendre. Mimi was a Sub, and, what he found funny about the situation, Matt was a Dom.

Matt couldn't help but grin as the woman blushed before him. He found her to be quite, delicately cute, yet extremely erotic at the same time. She was tall, but not too tall, and he couldn't help but gawk at her lovely, pale face, which accented her whiskey eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes. The hair was long, cascading down her shoulders to nearly her buttocks despite it being in a ponytail, and a few strands dangled by her face, making him want to brush them back. He wondered if her skin was soft and as delicate as she was, and just the thought of it increased the wanting he had to rush back her hair. Her arms over her breasts enhanced the lovely curve they made at the opening of her blouse, and he could see that she was quite well endowed. Oh, how he wanted to nuzzle her breasts, to discover if she might have them pierced or not, and to use them and their aching peaks to bring her into a painfully pleasurable state of mind and body.

Instead, he focused on the job at hand, which was to discuss the information, interview her, and decide whether she would be perfect for the job or not. They needed to see if she could be trusted.

Pulling out a chair and taking a seat, Matt leaned forward, brushing back a strand of his own hair.

"Tachikawa-san, we need you to help us with something very important." Tai and Ken took seats on either side of him. "We're currently investigating a crime involving sexual acts, and we heard that you would be the best at giving us a psychological profile of the killer."

Mimi frowned as she thought about all murders being televised at the moment, and there were not that many, which made it easier for her to figure out which involved sexual assault. Or least increased the possibility of sexual assault.

Tapping a pen to her lightly painted, rouge lips, she leaned forward slightly, pulling her seat closer to the table.

"You want me to make a profile of the BDSM Killer, am I right?"

Immediately, Matt glared furiously at Tai, thinking that the man had discussed the killings with outsiders. However, when Tai returned the angry glare with his own, confusion glittering in his chocolate eyes, Matt sighed heavily.

"How did you know?'

She tapped the pen against her temple, smiling at the confused Lieutenant. "I'm a therapist and psychologist, I know how to analyze situations and figure out one would have a possibility of sexual assault. Obviously it has to be the BDSM Killer, BDSM is usually connected with sexual activities, and I'm pretty sure that there was assault, since they are leaving out a _lot_ of information."

Ken leaned comfortably in his seat, a smile playing at his thin lips. "She's good, very quick." He crossed his arms. "I like that."

She nodded her head towards the brunet, smiling in return. "Thanks, I like it too. Gets me out of sticky situations." She turned towards the men. "So, is that all you want me to do, give you a psychological profile?"

Matt nodded with an added shrug. "Yes, somewhat. But in order to do that, we're going to need to give you all information pertaining to the murders. That means that it stays just between you, me, and any other police officer on the case. The information is purely confidential, and is not to be released until the murdered has been caught, and the relatives of the deceased agree to release the information."

"Sounds easy enough. I'm good at keeping secrets; I keep them all the time." She put her pen aside, tucking it into a holder on the folder in front of her before storing her papers in it. "So, all I do is get the information about the kills, keep it a secret, and use the given information to decide what this man is like."

"There's a bit more. You'll need to see the bodies, and you'll have to be with us every time we get called to the scene. By seeing everything at the crime scene, it will facilitate your process of analyzing him."

"Or her."

"Yes, yes, him or her." Matt pulled a folded paper out of his breast pocket, opened it and looked it over. "This," he waved it so she glanced at it, "is our confidentiality agreement, if you decide to join the investigation. When, or if, you sign this, it means that you will give us _all_ information you have about the murder, you will not lie, and you agree to keep all information a secret until _we_ decide to release it. Understood?"

She nodded. "Sounds good. Nothing wrong with it, and I don't see how it could not benefit me."

Matt began to hand her the paper, before pulling away and gazing straight into her eyes. They were such a soft whiskey colour, so tender and soothing. He wondered what they would look like when she was in the throes of an orgasm, or when her senses were heightened due to intense pleasure. He actually began to ache and harden at the thought.

Shaking away the thoughts, he focused on the current situation, trying not to think about what lay beyond that thin skirt.

"I need you to know one more thing. When we mean _all_ information, we mean all. That means that if a client comes by and starts acting identical to the killer; has the same profile, same background, and everything, we _need_ you to immediately contact us about it, without a question. It also means that you need to give us the name and contact information about the suspect. Do you understand?"

At this point, she was scowling at the Lieutenant standing before her. He was asking her to break her code as a therapist and break all confidentiality between her and her clients. The information was supposed to remain a secret, not to be given to anyone else, even inside the Institution.

Shaking her head, she sighed heavily. "I don't think I can do that, Lieutenant." There, she said, and it caused a pool of heat to gather at the juncture of her thighs. "I can't possibly break my confidentiality contract with my clients."

Matt mimicked her frown, returning it right back to her and he began to fold the paper. "I understand that there is a confidentiality agreement between you and your patients, and we will uphold that confidentiality agreement by making sure that no arrests take place publicly, and that none are publicly known. We do not wish to force you to break such an agreement, but by upholding it, you would be withholding information from the police, thus increasing the possibilities of your arrest. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Good. Then, hopefully, you will not mind giving us any and all information pertaining to the subject of the murders."

Still scowling, she glanced down at her papers as she considered all of the given information. He was willing to keep everything pertaining to her clients a secret, and, yet, she would still be breaking the contract by discussing the client with an outside individual. However, she would be arrested …

Exhaling loudly, she pulled out a sheet of paper and began to scribble down all of the pros and cons; she would not be taking the situation lightly. This involved the confidentiality of her clients, her occupation, and murder. She wanted to make sure that she would be making the right decision.

"Tachikawa-san, if you wish, we could leave you alone for a few minutes until you've come to a decision." Ken's voice broke through her thoughts.

She ignored him as she continued to weigh the pros and cons of the decision she would be making. Yes, she had made up her mind, but she wanted to make sure that she would be making the right decision, and not something that would turn out to be a huge mistake.

Looking over the paper, she saw that quite a number of pros were listed, while there were few cons. However, the cons on the list were quite heavy, including the loss of her job, and the loss of her reputation as a therapist. But those would be healed through time; she could reclaim what was hers, whilst the families would never be able to have their loved ones back.

She was doing this for Rumiko, for the young, vibrant woman who had lost her life brutally and violently at the hands of a cruel maniac. She was doing this, not only out of the good of her heart, but for revenge.

Smiling to no one but herself, she looked up at the men, the grin still plastered to her lips, reaching all the way to her eyes. However, this particular grin managed to put fear in the hearts of those men; it was a bloodthirsty smirk, one that said that she would achieve what she wanted, despite the consequences of her actions.

"I'm guessing that you've decided." Matt leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, resting them on his lap.

"Yes, I have." Her smile changed as she directed it, briefly, towards Tai, before facing the blond man. "I'll do it."

* * *

Matt arched a brow at the woman, frowning slightly as he lifted a hand to rest his head on, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against his lips. So, the woman had decided to join their ranks. He only hoped that she was prepared for the inevitable, for the races, the chases, and the stomach-churning sight of the deceased, desecrated bodies that lay waiting for them in the autopsy lab. She was fortunate; so far, all she had to do was look at the cleaner version of the bodies, not those that lay on floor, having just been torn to pieces, with the stench filling her nostrils, the coppery taste of blood thick in the air, causing her choke to gasp as she looked upon the bodies.

She looked so dainty, so delicate, and, yet, he knew that there was an unbelievable amount of strength within that form. Her mind had to be strong, had to refuse all temptation whatsoever in order for her to be a proper therapist. She had to be smart, quick to think, and didn't need to spend hours contemplating on her next action.

As he picked up her file, looking it over, he pulled out a highlighter, illuminating the fact that she had taken Jujutsu, was a seventh year black belt in Karate-do, and knew several Aikido techniques. Furthermore, she had taken boxing, rock climbing, fencing, and knew how to use guns. She was perfect for the job, lean, strong, powerful, and she knew how to handle herself in tough situations.

Maybe she was a little too perfect.

She relied a lot on her code, on her confidentiality agreement between her and the clients. She was strong-willed, meaning that it would take quite a good amount of persuasion to decide whether she would break her agreement with her clients, or her agreement with the police.

So, the question came down to, how much could they depend on her?

Matt slid the paper over to the woman, before glancing towards Tai. She knew Tai, and he knew her, and that meant that Tai could give him information about her that she might not have been willing to disclose. However, he truly did not want to go behind the woman's back, especially since she was willing to aid them in their search.

"Tachikawa-san, you do understand what you are doing, correct? By signing that sheet, it means that you must disclose _all_ information. When we say all, we mean _all_. Every, single little bit and piece of information pertaining to the subject. You do understand that, right?"

He needed to be sure that she knew what the consequences of her decision might be. He knew that she had formed a pro and con chart, and that she was not a woman whose intelligence was to be taken lightly, but everyone could make mistakes. For some odd reason, he liked her. Despite their lack of discussion and time together, he felt somewhat comfortable around her, while at the same time, his body began to ache and tighten with need. Especially at the sight of the creamy swell of her breasts as she leaned forward to grasp the paper.

She nodded to him, tucking another loose strand behind her ear. "You do not need to worry, Ishida-san, I understand fully what it would mean if I signed this." She leaned forward and signed beside the 'X'.

Handing the paper back to him, she spoke, "My reputation _can_ be fixed. But the dead cannot be fixed. If more people die because I decided to be selfish, I would feel so horrible. I will do my best to give you a psychological profile, but I must say that I am more of an expert in sex therapy."

Matt and the other two men stood up, nodding towards her. "I understand that, Tachikawa-san." He pulled out a card, and scribbled a phone number on the back. "Here's my cell number, call me if you need anything." He handed her the paper before heading towards the door. "I will call you to confirm our first 'appointment'. Have a nice day."

The door slammed shut.

* * *

The music was the same as usual, loud, fast, and erotic, and the bodies thumped and moved in beat to the music.

She stood in the doorway situated on the right corner, facing the large, rectangular expanse of the club. The bar lay in the far, right corner, covering half the facing wall, and right wall of the building, surrounded by stools that had been taken over by humans.

Along the back wall, just by the bar, tables were set up where people could sit, relax, and have a few drinks before going back to the large dance floor littered with people. Right on the opposite side of the room, a hallway led down a corridor, leading to the entrances to half of the private rooms, the other half of which were accessed on the opposite side. Therefore, doors covered the walls, space around them as the dancers stayed clear from them. Nobody knew when the doors would open, or who would go in next.

Grinning, she pulled her vinyl halter further up her breasts, pushing them to an extreme, causing the cleavage to rise almost all the way to her chin. Well, it was not that extreme, but it was quite large.

Her bare stomach was covered by crisscrossing straps of vinyl, hooked together by large, circular, gold links, two on the front, two on the back, making two X's of vinyl on the front and back of her torso.

Her skirt was sinfully short, sliding just short of her mid-thigh, exposing the vinyl hem of her stockings, and the trail of fishnet down to her vinyl boots. The tops of her stockings matched the belts across her chest, and the sensation of the vinyl rubbing along her thighs quickened the process of soaking her panties in juices. The fishnet traveled down to her knees, where a pair of black boots hid them. The stilettos were a minimum of 6" in height, while the front platforms were about 5½", adding to her height, causing her legs to look longer and leaner. Three straps flapped on the outside of the boots, ending in a diamond point.

Sweeping her hair back, letting it cascade down her back in waves of black, she smiled, her sinfully red lips curling seductively as she eyed the amount of Doms at the bar, surveying the dance floor, watching for the right Sub to use and pleasure that night.

Stepping into the bar, flashing her membership badge to the coat woman, she gave the woman her purse, before smiling and thanking her.

Her silver and black outlined eyes surveyed the dance floor, searching for that one Domme she yearned to find and torment.

Sora's hair was spiked slightly, eyes outlined in their own hue of red, which matched the red, leather corset she wore, causing the black, vinyl pants to stand out just a touch more.

Making her way over to the girl, Mimi fingered at the collar that lay on her throat, playing with the single, silver loop at the front of the vinyl collar.

Rules and regulations in Dom and Sub clubs stated that all free Subs had to wear simple, black collars, either as a plain black, or with a loop that had nothing attached to it. It there was a chain, lock, or anything attached to the loop, or the Sub wore a decorated collar that had no loop, it meant that he or she was taken, and could not be another Dom's Sub.

Mimi always followed the rules; if you wanted to stay in the Dom society, you had to follow the rules or you were immediately expelled.

Moving her body to the beat, sliding in between sweat-coated forms undulating on the dance floor, she moved up slowly behind Sora, before firmly grabbing the girl's buttocks.

The loud yip caused a giggle to erupt from the throat of the ebony-haired woman, and the girl spun around, ready to slap whoever had touched her, before smiling broadly and gathering her friend in her arms.

"Mimi!" She shouted her words over the blaring music. "You came! I was wondering when you would show up."

Mimi hugged her back, grinning. "I told you I would be coming by tonight. I just never said what time."

"Come! Let's get you your first drink for the evening."

Sora led her through the crowd, nearly dragging the poor girl all the way to the bar at the back. They managed to find two empty stools next to each other, which happened to be quite a rarity at Erotika's, especially at this time.

Sitting, they waited patiently for the bartender to pass by and ask them what they wanted. The two girls swung around on their stools, their gazes locked on the crowd. Sora's was more focused on a certain brunet bobbing and gyrating to the music. Mimi's, however, had become sharp; similar to the gaze she gave when examining patients, searching for someone who possessed certain mannerisms and behaviour.

She wanted to make sure that nobody was acting out of the ordinary, especially those closest to her. She had yet to check whether the killer had drugged his victims, and she wasn't going to start making false assumptions. She was going to try and do her hardest to help, even if it meant chasing the man down on her own. She had the opportunity to avenge her friend, and wanted desperately to ensure that her friend's death would be.

"What do you girls want?"

Spinning around in unison, the two girls leaned forward, both smiling broadly at the bartender.

"Oh, Toshiyo, it's nice to see you." Sora grinned. "I will have my usual, Sex on the Beach."

"Coming right up. And you, Mimi?"

It was her turn to smile at the tall, built man behind the counter, and Mimi couldn't help but play with a strand of hair. "I think I'll have some Midori to start. You know how much I love that stuff."

"I'll be right back."

The man went off to fetch their drinks, and the friends faced each other.

"So, you never told me why you were late. Did something happen at work? Did another crazy believe that you two were meant to be?" Sora eyes glowed with a teasing concern.

"Oh, Sora, be nice. It wasn't that man's fault that he was mentally disturbed. I'm pretty sure he had Shaken Baby Syndrome." Mimi nodded her thanks to Toshiya as he quickly returned with their beverages. "I mean, he was pretty fucked up."

Sora sipped her drink before replying. "Ah, that tastes so damn good. Anyways, about Shaken Baby Guy, I'm pretty sure he would have shaken you to death if it hadn't been for Takuya and Jenrya." She referred to Mimi's security guards at work. "They sure took that guy out."

Taking a good gulp of her green drink, Mimi leaned against the counter. "True. You could save that they fucked owned him."

The girls laughed loudly, before continuing to chat to one another about small, pointless things, or silly scenarios that had occurred in the past. The music held the nice, constant rhythm that made their feet shake and tap in the beat, tapping against the bar stools, fingers tapping against their glasses.

Mimi always enjoyed the music at the bar; it was never the same. There was a constant mix of loud, raucous Gothic/Punk music, a variety of hip-hop, and a good touch of techno. That was one of the main reasons Erotika's attracted such a variety of clientele, from the few people who simply enjoyed the atmosphere, to those who wanted to dip into something different, and to the older clients were who constantly in search of a new Sub or Dom to entertain them.

Erotika's was one of the longest running BDSM clubs in Japan, the other two being Dungeon and Cruella's. The owner of Erotika's was most likely a millionaire, and one of the smartest investors in the world, and most likely one of the richest as well. Jyou Kido, tall, dark, menacing, yet kind and intriguing, was one of the most mysterious men involved in the BDSM scene.

What was oddest about it was that Mimi thought that she had gone to high school with the man; she clearly remembered a quiet, bumbling boy with the same name, wearing glasses and a pocket-protector. The boy used to constantly follow her around, helping her whenever she needed it, and she had always found herself thankful for the kind boy.

But it could not possibly be the same man…

Her eyes flitted quickly through the crowd, pausing mid-conversation as she caught sight of Tai with a strange, blond man. Arching a brow, she watched the leather-clad brunet speak with the blond man, the two men making their way through the crowd, obviously coming in their direction.

Leaning over, she whispered loudly to Sora, "Who is that guy with Tai?"

Sora glanced in the direction of her boyfriend and Sub, focusing her gaze on the man beside him. Smiling, she turned to Mimi. "It's his friend, Matt. He's a good guy, works with Tai. I'm not surprised that he's here tonight."

Mimi frowned as she watched the men come closer, still trying her hardest to see the man's face properly; a strobe light was flashing brightly, causing much confusion and distortion.

Sipping her melon-flavoured drink, she continued to watch the men make their way closer. Suddenly, the strobe light switched to brilliant, bright purple, pink, and white lights. They passed through a stream of white light.

A small gasp escaped from her lips as she looked over the man. His long, lean, muscled legs were covered in a pair of worn leather pants that perfectly accented his crotch and most likely his buttocks. Trailing her eyes up past the waist, she noted the simple, black t-shirt he wore and the way it glued to his body, showing off his muscular biceps, and lean waist. She swore that she could see his abdominals outlined by the shirt.

His entire body was composed of sheer, raw muscle that bulged and shifted with each step he took. His blond hair was of a perfect length, cut the same way that Lieutenant Ishida had had his hair cut…

Another gasp was expulsed from her lips, this time not in awe and admiration, but in recognition. It _was_ Lieutenant Ishida.

Questions formed in her mind. What he here undercover? Had he found more suspects? Did Tai and him plan on talking to her about their agreement? Or was he actually part of the scene?

The handcuffs that hung from his belt signified that he was a Dom, and the fact that his body screamed with sexual dominance only added to the appearance.

She noted the way his piercing blue eyes cut through the crowd, silently searching for any suspects or victims, memorizing the actions and appearance of each person within the vicinity.

Tai suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere, Lieutenant Ishida right at his side, and two grinning broadly. Tai leaned over, picked up Sora's hand and kissed the back of it chastely. That was the way he was supposed to greet her; it was typical for male Subs to greet their Dommes with a subtle kiss on the hand. For female Subs, however, they were supposed to great their Doms with a sensual kiss on the throat. Mimi wasn't sure why the greeting couldn't have been kisses on the cheeks, seeing as she once kissed a previous Dom on the cheek, and wound up with the taste of cologne in her mouth.

The rules were rules, though, and everybody in the community had to follow them or risk the tarnishing of their reputation.

She leaned back in her seat before spinning it around, immediately putting her back to Lieutenant Ishida and her friend. Focusing on the bar, she asked Toshiya for refill, trying to ignore the heat that emanated from the body of the Lieutenant.

Suddenly, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and she felt the body heat increase tenfold. Lips met her ear lobe, teeth teasing it gently. His voice was so erotically rich and dark, so sinfully sensual that it nearly made her climax right there and then.

"Well, hello Kitten."

**How did you guys like it? I know the beginning was a bit long and a touch boring, but it was necessary. I didn't want to skip it; I want everybody to realize just what Mimi's putting at stake here. I also wanted you guys to see their brief interaction. **

**Anyways, the bar scene, too, is somewhat necessary for slowly bringing about their relationship.**

**I hope that you guys enjoyed it. I think I did a good job at making Matt, Tai, and Ken seem sexy. And I just LOVE the whole idea of Lieutenant Matt, or Lieutenant Ishida. It just sounds so erotic. Mrowr.**

**Anyways, please don't forget my review/post rule. Thank you. (If you do forget it, it is stated at the very bottom of the Chapter 1)**

**Ciao. **


	3. Tango de la Meurte

**Chapter 3**

**Tango de la Muerte**

She couldn't help it. The feel of his arms around her, his breath on her skin, made her entire body tingle and shiver with anticipated lust. She leaned back in his arms, despite the voice of reason in her mind telling her how stupid such an idea was. However, she completely ignored those thoughts, focusing solely on the way her body reacted when his arms encircled her. She found it oddly exciting, the way that this simple stranger could ignite such flames of desire, sending them trailing across her skin, leaving a fiery path of lust in their wake.

"Why don't you turn around and give me a kiss, Kitten?"

Oh, how she wanted to do that, to press her lips against his, to kiss him until both their lips were swollen and bruised, to touch him until the sensation of his skin was forever branded into her body. But she knew she couldn't.

She spun around in her seat, purposefully giving him a sultry look of desire; hooding her eyes in such a way that she gazed at him through her thick lashes.

He was so close, and she couldn't help but note that there truly was no hint of green or gray in his eyes; they were a pure, brilliant blue. She felt as though, if she stared long enough, she would get lost in the sea.

But the sudden confusion that shimmered in his eyes broke the spell. His mouth tilted slightly, trying his hardest to figure out where he had seen the woman before.

Recognition hit him, and it hit him hard. Immediately, he jerked away, eyes widening with amazement and confusion. Frowning, he couldn't help but glare in Tai's direction, before returning his gaze to the woman before him.

"Tachikawa-san?"

An instant blush coated her cheeks, but she kept her gaze focused on his despite the embarrassment filling her body. She had know that it had been him, known fully well what he had meant by wrapping his arms around her, and she had simply allowed him to continue. She felt terribly embarrassed, almost ashamed of herself for letting herself become so lost like she had. She was supposed to keep a clear mind, not one confused and riddled with constant thoughts about eroticism and his touch.

It was not the way of a therapist.

Nodding, she turned, taking a sip of her Midori, before facing him once more. "Hello Lieutenant Ishida."

Why did her voice had to sound so low and sultry? Why was it that she couldn't speak normal anymore? Did she have to try and purr every word to him?

Sora glanced over at the two of them, arching a brow in confusion.

"Oi, Meems, it seems as though this girl over here has no clue what's going on." Sora pointed to herself. "So, care to let me in on everything, or are you planning on keeping it all a secret?"

Mimi gestured to each of them, starting with Sora, and then to the Lieutenant. "Takenouchi Sora, I'd like to introduce you to Lieutenant Ishida Yamato. He and your Sub are the reason I was late this afternoon."

The brow stayed cocked in perplexity. "What do you mean by that?"

Yamato broke into the conversation at this point, knowing fully well that Tai was far too focused on his Domme to speak coherently.

"It means that the information will be discussed later on."

This time Sora pursed her lips. "You guys are all the same. Always keeping information from me."

Mimi giggled at that, leaning over to her friend. "Sora, hon, they think it's macho to keep information from us. It's only because we already know it, but they want to make it seem like they knew about it first."

Sora crossed her arms. "That is one of the strangest things I've ever heard you say, especially from a little Sub like you."

The woman tossed her long hair back from her face before waving at hand at her scowling friend. "I'm not that kind of Sub. Okay, well, I quite a stereotypical Sub, but I'm not the crazy stereotypical one, like those who beg and pretend to act stupid, and et cetera." She tapped her temple. "I'm a smart girl."

Throughout the entirety of their conversation, Yamato simply stood and watched, wondering what had compelled him to go to the club on this particular evening. He still had a few reports to do for work, and, yet, he had decided to go out and try to find a new Sub.

"Mimi, you are a strange girl."

Finally, Tai had spoken up, and, Yamato noted, the boy was acting quite differently than when he was at work. Then again, Yamato was used to the different sides of Tai, as they had been friends for several years. He found it odd, though, that he did not remember Mimi at all, despite him meeting Sora when they were young. Evidently, Sora and Mimi had been friends for a few years; he knew that Sora only took her closest friends to her bars. Apparently Sora was never sure whether her friends would instantly reject her or not because of her sexual preferences.

Mimi leaned over Sora, reaching out to tap Tai lightly on the shoulder, playfully punching while laughing. "Yagami, you, too, are a strange boy. So don't go around calling other people strange. Meanie."

Yamato watched as the girl leaned over, stretching her lean, willowy body, thrusting her breasts out, making them appear larger and fuller. Instantly, he began to regret wearing the leather pants; they were growing uncomfortably tight.

Shifting to stand by Tai, he ordered himself a beer, thanking Toshiya for the beverage. Leaning back against the counter, he watched as the three friends laughed and talked loudly to one another. He found it strange that he had never noticed Mimi before; he was a usual at Erotika's, and, according to Jyou, one of the better paying clients. Yamato was proud to say that he had a yearly rent on an upstairs private room, paid for full membership to enter the basement, and paid another yearly rent for a semi-private room downstairs. One could say that he was quite well off.

Especially since he was a Lieutenant.

Sora suddenly leapt forward, dragging poor, sweet Tai onto the dance floor, shouting inaudible words to the two left at the bar.

Frowning, Yamato glanced towards Mimi and the stool beside her, before slipping onto it. Leaning back against the counter, he sipped his beer, watching the crowd move and sway to the music's rhythm. Bodies moved faster as the rhythm increased, and the undulations slowed down as the music gradually decreased in the speed.

The song playing was one of Mimi's favourites, "Castles in the Sky," a song from the ever famous DanceDance Revolution game.

Tapping her foot to the beat, she chanced a glance in Yamato's direction, watching the man as he surveyed the crowd with his hawk-like eyes. She knew that he was examining everybody, putting every single image into his memory banks to be used later on.

Turning slightly in her seat, she grabbed her drink, which she had completely ignored for the past few minutes, and took a deep, hearty swig of it. Adjusting slightly on the seat, she faced Yamato.

"So, uh…"

He abruptly cut her off, "First rule, if you want to work with us, never, ever, call me Lieutenant, or make any references to my job. Understood?"

Scowling, she glared daggers at him. The nerve! Not only did he cut her off, but also he scolded her like she was some small five-year-old who had just broken a vase. He had no right to talk to her.

"Understood." She kept the sarcasm light, knowing that, although he had already ruffled her feathers, she had to keep their relationship light and as close to friendly as possible. She would be working with him, after all.

"Anyways, as I _was_ saying," she continued. "What the hell are _you_ doing _here_?"

His eyes widened slightly at the somewhat personal question. Frowning slightly, he turned to take a swig of beer before contemplating the answer he would give. He could not possibly give her the satisfaction of answering with a personal response. Furthermore, he could not possibly be one to tell her that he was, in fact, a Dom, and well-known throughout the scene, having been involved in it for the past six years of his life. He could not possibly be able to give her such a response. Especially since he had found himself immediately attracted to her, and had wanted _her_ as _his_ Sub. No, he would not give her the satisfaction of replying with his own personal statement.

He was going to make it up. Or, at least, simply exaggerate the real reason behind his appearance at Erotika's.

"Have you ever heard of the words 'under cover'? I am simply playing the act of a Dom just to get an idea of the scene and bar. I'm not really here for pleasure; I'm here for work."

She didn't know why, but she heard an audible crack as a part of her heart broke. She didn't know why those simple, truthful words made her stomach plummet to the soles of her feet, or made her eyes suddenly burn with unshed tears, but it hurt. Why was she reacting in such a way to a man she barely knew? What was wrong with her? Had she completely lost her mind? In the past twelve hours, she had fantasized about him, made a strange agreement, nearly agreed to procreate with him, and found herself hurting because of him.

She barely knew him.

So why did it hurt to know that he really hadn't been attracted to her? Why did it hurt to know that he had just been playing a role?

She didn't know, and she didn't like it.

Forcing her lips to curl into a bright, false smile that never managed to reach her eyes, she thanked the club for the strong shadows it created. "Oh, well, I guess it's typical. The cops in all those books I read tend to always do under-cover assignments, and all, and pretending and all that is just part of the role." She leaned back. "So, did Tai give you all the instructions of what to wear?"

He nearly choked on his beer. Was she trying to find a hole in his lie? Was she trying to delve for the truth? Or had it been just a simple, straightforward question with no double entendre? For a therapist, she certainly managed to confuse him, especially in the past twelve hours.

What a strange, unique woman.

She definitely appealed to him that was for sure.

There was only way he would be able to answer this particular question, which was with another lie. If he told her that he had known on his own how to dress, then she would immediately point the finger at him and call him a liar. So, he lied.

"Of course. I knew that Tai had been involved in the scene for a few years, that's why he's on the case, so I asked him for some pointers."

Sighing softly, the exhaling of breath barely audible, she turned away to watch the crowd gyrate passionately, bodies rubbing against one another in lust and unleashed desire.

"So, you've known Tai for a few years now?"

Finally, they were on even ground, where he wouldn't dare to lie. The questions were less personal, and had grown more general, somewhat, concerning a common friend.

"Since we were children." He sighed, the sound almost wistful. "We grew up together in Odaiba, same apartment complex and everything." He laughed. "We used to fight all the time, but when we matured we became best buddies." He didn't know why he was giving her so much information, but he just felt compelled to tell her all the cheerful, good facts about him and Tai. Maybe it was just the air she had, the aura about her that compelled those around her to tell more than they wanted to.

"Really? That's neat. Sounds like Sora and I." She sipped her drink. "We grew up on the same block, of course; my parents had enough money to buy a house, while she lived in an apartment. To be honest, I always preferred going to her house."

It was strange, the two strangers coming together in a bar, speaking to one another about past and present, discussing facts that had been unknown to so many others that had known them for longer. It was odd that they were comfortable enough to state such personal facts, but they didn't want to delve on such thoughts for too long; it would diminish the relaxing, comfortable mood between them.

* * *

Sora watched them interact from the crowd, dancing, undulating her hips against Tai's in the rhythm of the song, her eyes constantly shifting from her wonderful, caring Sub to her best friend. It was quite strange that they had suddenly gone from two uncomfortable strangers, to comfortable acquaintances.

It was almost as though, in mere seconds, they had developed some form of a friendship. She continued to glance towards them, the strobe light coming on, creating a powerful effect as the couple stood and moved towards the dance floor, heading straight towards the Domme and her Sub. She instantly knew that they planned on dancing with them; the light in their eyes made it apparent.

The foursome danced for some time, touching one another, brushing each other gently, and rubbing themselves against the strangers around them. The men kept their moves light, simple, trying to continue to appear somewhat manly by not making too many risqué moves.

The girls moved against one another, mouths hovering at their throats, ears, lips, breaths mingling in a sensual, yet platonically comfortable fashion that caused their blood to heat and boil in their veins. Their hair swished and swayed as their gyrated, their arms liked flowing ribbons, moving softly, sensually in the air, caressing one another to the beat.

Mimi watched as Tai came up to Sora, holding her from behind, and the couple began to grind, Sora's arms still connected to Mimi's.

Perspiration coated their flesh, giving their bodies a slick, sleek feel, decreasing the amount of friction between each body. They were losing themselves to the rhythm and beat of the song, letting their bodies move on their own, letting their minds become one with the music. They succumbed to powerful beat, to the sensuality of it, and allowed their bodies to meld together in absolute eroticism.

It became sheer, utter bliss.

Arms twined around her waist, and Mimi leaned back against the taut, powerfully muscled chest of the man behind her. She knew who it was, but at the moment, she could care less. Right now, she was lost in the music, and did not want anything to bring her back to the reality of the world she lived in. She enjoyed living in a fantasy world, of being able to touch and no worry about being harmed, to be able to caress without worry, and to be able to love without pain. That was her ultimate fantasy life, and, right now, as the music was playing, she planned on living it. No matter what the consequences would be later on. That was for later, this was the now.

Her head fell back, resting against his shoulder as she moved her rear against his crotch, their hips twirling and shifting in unison to the beat, their bodies humping and undulating to the rhythm. Their clothing began almost unbearably tight as desire flowed through their veins, pounding in their hearts and minds, urging them to leave and release the desire.

But they couldn't, both knew it, and the little voice in their mind constantly reminded them of their current situation. It was the only hint of reality that they had at the moment, and, although they yearned to ignore it, they had to obey the commanding, little voice of reason.

So they let themselves go for now, let their bodies shift and move, let their sweat mingle, their flesh made sensual contact, they let themselves flow with the music, dancing as though nothing would ever bring them out of the dream world they were lost in.

Spinning around in his arms, she faced him as he placed a leg between hers and they resumed to grind against one another. The passion and desire escalated until it became near painful, and yet they continued to undulate against one another, thrusting their hips against each other's in one of the ultimate acts of passion.

Their lips brushed, soft and tender, yet excitingly erotic. Their hands caressed, brushing up and down their arms, kissing their skin with tender touches. Their breath mingled, gasping out softly against the line of their throats, against the smooth flesh of their ears.

The yearning increased with the beat, the undulations growing more passionate, more needy, their bodies aching to be flesh to flesh, mouths roaming along the sweat-coated skin, hands grasping and nails grazing.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, aiding her in rubbing her groin against his, facilitating the entire process of gyrating her hips, rotating them in an excruciatingly erotic pattern that made his mind swirl with ecstasy. His hands lay just above her buttocks, urging her forward into a faster, rougher thrusting movement, aching for her to be closer, to rub herself against him until they died.

Their lips brushed.

His grip tightened.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Their lips touched.

A loud, piercing, wailing scream filled the air, heard well above the roar of the music.

In sheer seconds, the music ceased, people glanced around everywhere, and more screams were heard from the opposite side of the club. The policemen let go of their dance partners, rushing through the fray of people trying to get out of the club, pushing through the mass to reach their destination.

She stood in the middle of the crowd, watching the crowd part as they ran around her. She had been so close, so terribly close that it terrified her. Oh, how she ached to be in his arms.

But not now, not when it was obvious that he was needed.

Grasping Sora's hand, she led the Domme through the crowd, pulling her closer and closer to their companions, nearing the destination.

A loud sobbing was heard above the dull roar of feet stampeding against the ground. It was broken by a few, high-pitched squeals of utmost fear and terror. She felt her heart wrench at the sounds of excruciating pain, her stomach twisting into multiple knots as fear lodged in her throat. What lay beyond was surely something that would change her forever.

"Tachikawa, leave Sora here."

The orders were sharp, commanding, coming from the mouth of a certain blond that had instantly fallen into Police Mode. She jerked her head up at the command, glancing in the direction of the man.

He looked so feral, so demanding as he stood at the doorway of a private room, eyes darkened with leashed fury and an overwhelming sense of duty. The muscles bulged against the restraints of his shirt, and she couldn't help but look him over once, then twice, before turning to her friend.

"Sora, go by the bar, all right, keep Toshiya company."

The girl arched a brow at her friend, frowning slightly in confusion. "But Mimi, why aren't you coming with me?"

Tai appeared out of nowhere, standing before the women, looking just as commanding at Ishida did, clad in the leather and vinyl outfit he wore.

"Because, my lovely Sora, now is the best time for Mimi to show us just how good of a psychologist she is."

His words seemed to prophesize her doom, and she felt her heart drop, falling well past the floor, into the very heart of the earth. Fear instantly gnawed at her mind, urging her to turn and run, telling her to do anything but keep going forward. There was something there; something just beyond that threshold that was going to horrify her and create nightmares that would never leave her.

But she had signed the contract, she had agreed to all of the terms involving the case, including being accessible to all scenes.

How did she know that this was a scene? One could say that it was an instantaneous gut feeling she had as soon as Tai and Yamato switched personalities. Something deep down told her that something was wrong, something had to have occurred in order to cause such a shift, something dramatically horrendous.

Turning to her friend, she knew that her face had paled exponentially; she felt the blood rush all the way down to her feet, where her heart surely lay at the moment.

"Sora, please do as I say, go sit down somewhere, and don't come by until Tai or Ishida tell you to, all right?" She sighed heavily, looking her friend straight in the eyes. "I need you to do this one thing for me; something tells me that you don't want to see what I'm about to see."

She watched as her friend walked away, knowing fully well that the girl hated being left out from anything situation concerning her Sub and best friend. But it was for the best; what lay past the threshold was not going to be a pretty sight.

Turning around, she looked up at the Detective standing before her.

"Mimi, I need to know that you really, truly, honestly want to help us. Right here, right now, I want the truth. I don't want you to lie; once you see some things, you can never go back. Right now, I'm giving you the choice to turn and walk away from this, and forget that you ever even signed a paper. Do you understand?"

She looked down at her feet, always in awe at how high she actually was from the ground, trying to focus all of her attention on the question her long-time friend had just posed her. He wanted to make sure that she was all right with her decision, that she knew that she would be making the right choice.

Immediately, the thing beyond that door initiated a greater sense of overwhelming fear.

She wanted, ever so much, to just turn away from this, to forget that anything had ever happened, and return to the boring, simple life she had lived before meeting the Lieutenant. But a little voice whispered to her, reminding her of the promise she had made to Rumiko and her friend's family. She had vowed that she would do whatever it took to avenge her friend's death, even if it meant forming nightmares of her own.

All she had to do was remember that the families of the victims were living their worst nightmares, unable to pull away from reality even as they slept.

Their dreams were filled with death and depression.

Facing Tai with a renewed sense of passion, she exhaled loudly, determination aglow in her whiskey eyes.

"I understand what's at stake. But I signed an agreement; I promised that I would help, no matter what the cost. I keep my promises, Tai, no matter what."

He mimicked her loud sigh, turning away from her. "All right, Mimi, but just remember, I gave you a choice. Once you see this, you will not be given another chance to pull away from this situation. You will be instantly forced to stay."

"I know. I appreciate your care. Thank you."

She followed him towards the room, past a woman who lay curled up at the open doorway, a friend or family member attempting to soothe the girl with a soft voice and kind words. Trying her hardest to ignore the loud sobs, she gathered up whatever courage lay within her, and stepped forward, forcing her feet to pass the threshold of the private room.

Her stomach twisted as she looked up, eyes falling upon the bed laden with two, almost indistinguishable forms, tangled amongst the blood red sheets. One might say that the sheets had been torn and laid across the bodies, moistened from water to become glued to the skin. However, she knew what it was…

_Blood_. The blood was everywhere. Smeared across the walls, soaked into the sheets, dripping onto the tiled floor, and spread across the bare bodies before her. Their faces were twisted into crude expressions, eyes fortunately shut, mouths sealed closed.

The smell hit her; the thick, coppery scent of blood permeated the room and consumed her senses. She staggered back, bracing herself against the wall as screams lodged in her throat, blocking the sound from escaping, as well as the bile that slid upwards from her stomach.

Turning her face away, she fought to remove the ghastly images from her mind, yet they remained incessantly imprinted against the stark blackness of her shut lids. The scent stayed with her, as she ached to think about something, anything else that would draw her senses away from the bodies lying before her.

She wanted to run, to go somewhere and hide, to empty the contents of her stomach and pass out from sheer, psychological exhaustion. Never, not once in her life, had she seen such horrendous images.

A cool, soothing hand touched her bare shoulder, slowly easing the calming cold into her body, cooling her down from the heat of terror and confusion. She turned into the embrace of the person, urging them to hold her and pull her away from the tormenting scene.

"Tachikawa, I need you to be strong. Okay?" His voice had grown softer, loosing the sensual heat it usually carried. This time, it was tender, soft, and loving. "I need you to look at them and help me, okay?"

She didn't want to agree, she didn't want to go anywhere near the forms, but she knew, deep in her conscience, that she had promised to do something incredibly horrifying. She knew that it would be far easier to give up than to go on, but something inside of her told her not to give up. Not now.

His voice eased her, relaxed the tense muscles of her body, calming any horror attempting to consume her being. She didn't know why, but it managed to delve deep into the deep, dark crevice of fear she had fallen into, and he was slowly, kindly pulling her up and out of the abyss. She knew that she had not fallen too far, but it was far enough for her fears to overwhelm her senses.

She had seen enough death in her life.

Why must she see more?

Because she made a promise that she planned to keep.

"Ishida-san?"

"Hai, Tachikawa?"

"I, I'm ready to look right now." He began to ease away but she stopped it. "If I puke, please, uh, don't tell Sora."

Chuckling softly under his breath, he nodded. "All right, I promise."

Forcing herself to calm down, pushing away all personal, fearful thoughts to the back of her mind, she locked her emotional side away. Coming out of his arms, she visibly changed. Her eyes had become empty, serious voids of brown, face utterly expressionless as she turned to the bodies. She had gone into her own, therapist mode.

"Okay, let's see what I have to work with."

She turned away from him and her emotions, facing the horror that lay before her.

* * *

"I'm going to the police station."

Sora glanced up at Mimi, and tried her hardest not to throw herself in her friend's arms. The girl was pale as the waning moon, her veins standing out in a brilliant blue against the pallor of her flesh.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look at you, Mimi. You're not going anywhere except home." The simple fact that her words focused purely on Mimi's well being as opposed to curiosity about the scene demonstrated just how worried Sora was. As well as how sickly Mimi must have looked.

"I can't, Sora, I'm not allowed. I have to go to the police station and help Lieutenant Ishida make up a report with Tai."

Sora stood up, grasping Mimi's arms tightly, nearly jerking away as her hands made contact with the cold flesh. "Mimi, you don't look well. I don't care about what you saw or did, I just want to make sure that you'll be all right."

Mimi smiled at her friend, fighting the urge to shake violently, the horror of the scene still painfully fresh in her mind. "You're such a great friend. I'll be all right. Nothing that a good, cup of coffee can't cure." Sora prepared to butt in, but Mimi continued. "I promise that I will call you when I get there, and call you every couple of hours as an update, okay? Please, just go home and rest. You work early tomorrow, anyways. So, promise me you won't stay up all night and worry?"

Her friend sighed heavily, looking down and away from the pale woman. She knew that Sora wanted desperately to help her in any way possible and that Sora tried hard, but this was something that Mimi would need to work on by herself. It was something she would have to adjust to; Yamato was planning on showing her the rest of the corpses in the morgue that night.

Tai seemed to appear out of nowhere; it seemed as though he enjoyed doing that. Smiling down at Sora, he quietly slipped his hand against hers, twining his fingers around hers.

"You're lucky I'm a Detective; anyone of lower status would not have been able to keep you here," he said.

He gestured to the inside of the cub, where Sora remained stationed at the bar, waiting and watching while policemen and CSI units rushed back and forth, hurrying to the room, questioning witnesses, and discussing important information with the owner, Jyou.

It had been the first time Mimi had seen the mysterious man out of his office, and even then, she barely got a glimpse of him as he beckoned the Commander into his office to discuss the current situation. Yamato had been asked to stay on the scene and ensure that everything went well.

Sora scowled up at Tai. "Yeah, I really appreciate having nothing to do while you play policeman. How about you use those great powers of yours to make Mimi come home? Apparently Yamato is dragging her to the bloody police station!"

Tai scratched the back of his head in response, giving her a slightly sheepish look before fidgeting with his feet. "About that …"

She twirled around on both of them. "Is there something you're not telling me? If you don't tell me soon, I promise that I will find out, and if I have to find out on my own, I won't be happy."

Mimi sighed, speaking up before Tai had a chance to form some sort of creative lie. "I agreed to help them."

Sora paused, arching a brow at her friend. "What are you talking about?"

She tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "Sora, I promised to help Lieutenant Ishida and Tai create a profile for a killer. I'm helping them with the case."

Sora swallowed thickly. "And what case is it?"

"I can't tell you." She turned slightly as she saw Yamato calling her to hurry up. "Look, Sora, I have to go. I'll … I'll tell you everything I can when I get back, all right? I promise. We'll sit down, have a nice lunch or supper, and talk about everything. I have to go."

Sora wanted to reply with something cruel, something infuriating as her friend walked away, but she knew that it would only add insult to the injury. She saw the painful regret in her friend's eyes, the yearning to tell the truth, but the constant need to follow the rules given to her. Mimi had always been one to put herself on the line for others. She only hoped that, this time, she lived through it.

Last time she almost hadn't.

**I know that the ending was a bit rushed, but I'm trying to make these a decent length, meaning not TOO long, but not TOO short. They are, on average, 10 pages long in word, size 12 font. So, I'm pretty happy with them. Anyways, please keep up with the lovely reviews.**

**Don't forget my Review/post policy**

**Oh, and yes, the song mentioned earlier is the Ian Van Dahl version. I think it's from one of the Final Fantasy games. I can't remember. **

**Btw, I cut out the scene where she examines the crime because she'll think about it later on in a future chapter, and you'll get a better description of it later on. I promise. I'm still sorry the ending was rushed.  
Btw, for those who don't know the title basically means: Tango of Death -- something along those lines, but Tango de la Meurte sounds far more erotic/foreboding. Hee hee. **

**So, yes, please review, and I will post more. **

**Ciao **


	4. Pink Pasties and Blue Skin

**Brief note: Jenrya is Henry Wong from season 03, and, from the first chapter, Izumi is Zoe from season 04.**

**Also, the Iori who was killed in Chapter one is NOT Hida Iori from the series. You'll see why later on.**

**By the way, I'm sorry for such the delay. I've been busy with exams, and then work. And I've also had a HUGE writer's block on this chapter. So, I'm hoping it turns out okay. **

**I know it's seems a touch boring'ish near the end, but I need to give at least a part of the profiling, just to help influence** **future chapters. You will see.**

**Chapter 4 **

**Pink Pasties and Blue Skin**

The station was not like those described in typical police novels, or any of the movies she had seen. It was not crowded, nor was it utterly empty, devoid of any person or being whatsoever. Instead, it was similar to a typical business building, with a reception desk, a clean, comfortable waiting area, and doors and hallways leading beyond to offices, labs, detainment cells, rooms for questioning, and the ever famous, morgue.

She wouldn't have minded going to the labs and watching them perform the experiments that helped solve mysteries, nor would she have minded going to the offices and watching them work the puzzles out in their minds as they fought against time and death to solve confusing puzzles. But the one place she actually feared going to, was the morgue.

It was a place of death and decay, where whomever went it never came back alive. There, she would be able to smell the stench of death and rotten flesh, to watch as they wheeled out the cold, lifeless bodies for her to examine and touch, to poke and prod like they were some fascinating item. Surely the body was quite fascinating, but she preferred to deal with the mind; it was far more interesting, and required her to stay clean in the process.

But, as she followed him into the back, listening as he told the officer behind the desk who she was and why she was there, she knew, deep down, that she would be going into that room of death, no matter what she tried.

She had made a promise.

She heard the words, heard the sounds of sentences being formed, but she could not make sense of just what was being said. They were nothing but sounds, strange noises coming out of the throats of those around her, watching her follow their leader. She could feel their eyes on her back; hear the soft, echoing sound of their whispers echo down the hall. If only she weren't so numb, then she would be able to hear their words.

She just barely saw the brightly lit hallway, but, for some reason, she could not see all of it. Instead, wherever there were shadows, she saw blood. The handprints on the walls, smeared down, as though someone coated in the red liquid had tried to bash the wall in, tried to crawl away, but were forced to give up in the process. She saw their lifeless, open eyes, void of any glimmer or brilliant sheen, dull and purple-blue in the pale light.

She remembered becoming tangled in the sheets, slipping on the warm, slick blood, and nearly falling forward onto the desecrated bodies.

Warm arms grasped her, holding her up, and she glanced towards the man who held her, her eyes meeting a brilliant, blue gaze.

"Tachikawa-san? Are you all right?"

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she jerked away, unconsciously dusting her body off, attempting to regain whatever composure she had within her. Had she really just tripped in the middle of an empty hallway?

But she had thought that she was in the room again, slipping on the blood, tripping over the blankets, falling onto the torn, bloodied forms. Nearly coming into contact with the slit throats and destroyed torsos.

Swallowing thickly, she closed her eyes and willed the images away, yearning for them to leave her alone for the time being, just so that she could be able to walk straight and not fall.

"I'm … I'm fine, Lieutenant Ishida. I just slipped a bit; my boots are, uh, a little slippery on the floor." She let out a sharp, barking laugh, giving him a good signal that apprehension was currently flooding her body. "I guess the floor isn't dirty enough."

Smiling softly in return, he simply nodded. "All right." He turned to continue walking. "The morgue isn't too far off. You'll need to clean up a bit first, put some proper shoes on and all that. So, I'm going to take you to the lockers, get you some proper clothes, and then we'll go to the morgue. Sound good?"

She wanted to say no, to say that going to the morgue did _not_ sound good at all. But she couldn't; she was going to keep her end of the bargain, no matter what consequences befell upon her.

"Okay, Lieutenant."

He knew that he was getting odd looks from the women on the squad, he could tell from the moment he had first stepped in and all eyes fell upon him. He remembered distinctly when Ken actually came up, grinning broadly, and looked him over.

"Well, Lieutenant, I see you're enjoying being the _dominant_ one on the squad," the brunet had said.

Yamato had actually wanted to blush at that, and he rarely blushed. Instead, he slugged the unsuspecting man in the arm, chuckling as the younger man rubbed the injured spot.

"Now that was cheap."

"So was your comment," Yamato had retorted before continuing to lead Mimi away.

Now he was leading the young woman to a room that he was positive she would never want to enter. He recalled her reaction at the crime scene, and he had actually feared for the worst, that she would vomit, pass out, and go into the worst kind of shock.

Yamato actually admired the young woman; the crime scene had not been a pleasant sight, and she had reacted quite well to such a bloody mess. He recalled clearly the images of the bodies lying prone on the bed.

They had been massacred, torn apart in such a furious show of rage that it had even made bile rise in his throat. Blood had been splattered on the walls, coating the floor in a layer of the red liquid, soaking the sheets until they were drenched in blood. The scene had been like the others, throats slits, genitalia abused, and bruising that could not be visually differentiated from those caused in the act of love and those caused from fighting back.

But the one thing that had stood out was the sheer brutality of the scene; the bodies had been hacked viciously with what he suspected was a machete, or a large enough knife. The cuts had been bone-deep, causing a great amount of blood loss, which was the definite cause of death for both victims. So why had it been necessary to cut the throats?

The best conclusion that Yamato made was that it was personal this time, and that the killer had everything to gain in savagely tearing apart the bodies of the deceased. For some reason, the killer had not spent as much time focusing on his victims, aiming to not only kill them, but also destroy their very bodies. He wanted them to suffer.

Sighing heavily, Yamato continued to lead her down the sanitized hallways until they reached two sets of doors. Slowly opening the one labeled for women, he peeked his head in, calling out to anyone in the locker room. Once he was assured that nobody was inside, he led Mimi inside.

"I'll just find you some stuff. I'm pretty sure that Miyako's clothes will fit you; they might be a bit tight, though."

Arching a brow, Mimi was pulled out of her thoughts as the man, clearly, insulted her weight and body composition. Frowning, she glared daggers at the blue-eyed man standing before her.

"Excuse me?"

He jerked his head back, having been rummaging through a locker. "Hm?"

"Unless I'm very mistaken, I believe you just insulted me." Her hands automatically fell to her hips. At his perplexed glance, she continued. "You just called me fat."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He stood upright, moving away from the locker. "Are you having auditory hallucinations or something? Are you a schizophrenic and not tell me about it?"

Her scowl deepened at his questioning insults. Hallucinations, she could live with, but being called a schizo did nothing to appease her irritability. "You told me that her clothes would be tight. I'll have you know that I can fit in a variety of sizes, ranging from a size 2 to a size 5, and those are pretty fucking small sizes." She gestured to her body. "Do I really look _fat_ to you?"

His gaze followed the movement of her hands, trailing down her lean, curvy torso, to her long, slender legs, before going back up once more. His gaze lingered on her full breasts, before coming up the pale slope of her throat to her heart-shaped face. He swallowed thickly. As soon as his gaze had fallen upon her body, erotic images had begun to consume his mind, making his body tighten with need and primal desire.

Turning his gaze away, he went back to rummaging through the locker, trying to do something, anything, to pull his mind away from what lay under all of that black vinyl.

"No, you don't look fat." He sighed. "It's just that, uh…" How was he supposed to say that she was far more well endowed that poor Miyako? '_"Tachikawa-san, you have bigger boobs that this chick." Haha, no; that will get me hurt. Uh, how about "You are a bit more gifted than my friend?" Oh jeez, hell no, she'd kick my ass for sure. Aw fuck.'_

"Well, Tachikawa-san, I guess you could say that being in too-good shape, not that you're not in shape, does not have too many benefits for women. You know, they, uh, get too thin in areas, and, well, you're a bit… _fuller_ in those, um, areas…" He hoped, prayed, that she understood his hint.

She couldn't help it; she smiled coyly, moving slowly forward. "Why, Lieutenant Ishida, are you saying that I'm … endowed?"

He found a comfortable, simple white blouse and placed it aside. Keeping his back to her, he searched for a pair of pants. "Exactly."

He hit his head on the top of the locker when he realized what he had just blurted out. Cursing, he rubbed the top of his head, pulling out of the metal confinement, squinting slightly from the sharp pain exuding from his skull.

"I, uh, Tachikawa-san, I didn't mean, uh, I'm sorry if I offended you?"

For just a moment, a very brief moment that seemed to last years, she kept her hands on her hips, eyeing him in suppressed irritation. The moment passed, and laughter exploded from her throat, escaping her lips as they curled into a bright smile.

"Lieutenant Ishida, you sure know how to distract someone from their impending doom. Thank you."

"Uh…no problem?"

Frowning in confusion, he turned his back to her, sticking his body back into the locker, focusing intently on finding a pair of pants that would not be too long on her; Miyako was also a few inches taller than the brunette standing by him.

As he withdrew, his eyes fell to her boots.

"Oh jeez."

Frowning, she picked up the blouse and looked at it before glancing at him. "What's the matter?"

Yamato sighed heavily. "I don't have any shoes for you, and those little, rubber plastic things will be too small to fit over your platforms."

Nodding in understanding, Mimi turned her gaze away from him to focus on the blouse. It would most certainly be a tight fit. It would probably added quite a bit to her cleavage. Perfect, just what she needed, something to distract the cop even more.

Then a sudden realization hit her, and she blushed darkly in response. Her outfit was basically a one-piece; although the belts on her stomach could be detached in the front for easy removal, they were attached to her skirt, which she would not be able to wear if she was going to be wearing pants. This meant that she would have to take off her top.

All she had under her top were flower nipple pasties.

_Neon_ pink nipple pasties.

Oh shit.

"Uh, Lieutenant Ishida, how, uh, transparent is this top?"

Frowning at her unusual question, Yamato searched valiantly for a pair of shoes for the girl to wear. Glancing towards her, before refocusing his attention on the locker, he shrugged. "Probably see-through enough to see skin. Miyako tends to wear tank tops under it and we can usually see the lining of them. I can't find any of those in here, so I guess it's a good thing you have that top, eh?"

"Oh." She swallowed thickly, before looking away, pondering about her sudden dilemma. To be uncomfortable, or practically flash this poor officer. What was a girl to do?

She would not be able to wear those pants with that skirt.

Damn it.

"I think I found you some shoes. They might be a touch big, maybe half a size, but they're made small, so they should be okay." He pulled out a pair of simple, black, ballerina flats. "Sound good?"

Nodding, she thanked him and took the shoes from him. Shutting the door, he sat down on the bench, watching her patiently.

Scowling, she crossed her arms the best she could, and eyed his suspiciously. "Aren't you going to leave?"

"Huh?" He turned to glance at her, before blushing darkly. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry Tachikawa-san. I'll leave you alone now."

Before she had a chance to say anything, the Lieutenant rushed out of locker, the vermilion hue still on his cheeks.

Shrugging, she turned her back to the door and proceeded to change.

Well, at least she was wearing underwear.

* * *

He sat outside of the changing room, head buried in his hands as he stared at the white, pristine floor. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and nearly groaned aloud at the sight that assaulted his mind.

How was he supposed to tell her that, the reason he had been distracted was because he was imagining her changing? Not only would it seem unprofessional, but it would also have seemed quite perverted.

But the image, the sheer thought of her sliding out of those clothes, exposing her pale, creamy skin made his mind whirl with desirable fantasies.

How was it that his body instantly ached for her, despite her being nothing short of a stranger? Sure, he had felt arousal before when seeing a good-looking woman, such as Carmen Electra, but this had been the first time he had been aroused just by her touch. Usually the woman had to be wearing provocative clothing, hair done up, and et cetera. But this time, just the sound of her voice, the feel of her touch made his senses grow wild and erratic.

So what was it about her that made his yearn with need?

He was completely and utterly unsure of himself and his desires at this very moment, and it frightened him. He was always so in control, in-check of his emotions and needs, always so straightforward and sure of himself. It created a great wave of confusion when this one lovely stranger filled his thoughts and consumed his mind.

Lifting his head at the sound of footsteps, he choked on saliva, air, and words as Mimi stepped out of the locker room. Maybe he should not have given her a white shirt…

The blouse was tight, very tight, and pushed her cleavage as high as it would go without a bra. How did he know she wasn't wearing a bra? He could see the pale tone of flesh just underneath the thin, white top. He was actually very grateful that he could not see her nipples; he probably would have shoved her back into the locker room and never come back out.

Although, despite the fact that he could not see her nipples, he knew exactly where they were located, the brilliant, flower-shaped pasties, at least, that's what he figured they were, stood out brightly through the pale top. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to chuckle, or groan with delight.

The black pants were tight; she was not as leggy as Miyako, and her legs seemed to contain a bit more muscle than his lavender-haired friend. She had rolled up the bottoms, exposing the flats that were just a bit too big. However, he barely glanced at the flats, focusing his attention on, as she spun around slowly, the way the pants hugged her tight buttocks.

It was the most fascinating thing he had ever examined; it captivated him, drawing him to it, making him want to see her in different outfits, to see just how his body would react to other clothes.

Instead, he stood, clearing his throat loudly.

"Well, Tachikawa-san, I guess it's not too bad a fit." No, it was a perfect fit, and, as she moved, he noted how her breasts shifted against the thin material, aching to replace that material with his hands and mouth.

She smiled in return. "Thank you, Lieutenant." A sigh escaped her lips. "I guess we should get this stuff done and over with, eh?"

"Oh, yes, of course." He turned away from her. "Follow me."

The door swung both ways, was large, metallically silver, and had a large, circular window allowing people to see in and out. The room beyond possessed the faintest of bluish hues, almost as though the neon lights were blue as opposed to a brilliant white. The floor was pristine, clean, and as clear as ivory, while the walls were whitewashed, unadorned of any sentimental or personal effects. A few anatomical diagrams here and there, signs indicating proper hand-washing techniques over the sink, and a white x-ray board covered the almost bare walls.

In the very middle of the room was a stretcher, upon which lay what appeared to be a sleeping human being. But, as Mimi entered the room, the knowledge that the human was not sleeping came into sharp focus. The reason for such was the man leaning over the body, pulling out what looked to be a desecrated, fatty liver.

"Death most probably caused by internal bleeding of the liver. The organ has been torn nearly in half from a large, jagged, sharp object, most likely a knife." The man leaned closer to the liver, using his upper arm to adjust his glasses. "From the faint ridges on the inside of the liver, it would seem like the knife has the same serrated ridge pattern as that of a bread knife. The estimated length of the blade is 5.5 inches."

"Hey, Jenrya, can you do me a favour?"

The man lifted his head, arching a brow in the direction of Yamato and Mimi, before placing the liver aside and pulling off of his gloves.

"And what can I do for you, Lt?"

The man tugged a cap off of his head, exposing a head full of dark, bluish black hair that fell just short of his ears. Beyond the glasses designated for magnification of objects, was a pair of dark chocolate eyes.

Smiling, the blond stepped forward, gesturing from Mimi to the man named Jenrya. "Jenrya, this is Tachikawa Mimi," he turned to Mimi, "Tachikawa-san, this is Li Jenrya, our coroner."

He stuck out his hand in an automatic reaction to the introductions. Smiling faintly, she leaned forward; grasping his hand with hers in a solid, yet not too tight hold. She was trying to let him know that she was strong and was not as nervous as she felt.

He then turned to Yamato as they separated.

"So, Lt, what is it you want?"

"I need you to get out the victims of the killer." Yamato sighed. "Yoshite Sakura, Ita Hiro, Horata Rumiko, Sato Mamoru, Hiragusawa Setsuna, and Yuuto Iori."

Mimi swallowed thickly as she heard Rumiko's name stated under the characterization of 'victim'. Instantly, fear clenched tightly around her chest, suffocating her and lodging her heart in her throat as she fought for the strength to see poor Rumiko. The last time she was seen the beautiful woman, the girl had been dancing the night away at Dungeon's, laughing and smiling.

Would she be able to bear seeing her friend lying on a stretcher, beyond all help, gone from the world?

Only time would tell.

"Oh, certainly." Jenrya turned away from the two at the doorway, moving to the far, left wall. The wall was covered in what appeared to be a few dozen filing cabinets. But Mimi had watched enough CSI shows to know otherwise.

Those were cells that contained the bodies of the deceased.

Jenrya looked along the bottom cabinets, checking the front tags for names, flicking the lock on each he found. All six were on the bottom, and, without waiting for them to say otherwise, he opened up, one by one, all six compartments. Immediately, the insides of the compartments lit up, as though the simple movement of the opening door caused the lights to turn on.

Moving along the aisle, Jenrya pulled out the stretchers, one at a time, exposing the forms, each of which was covered by a simple, white sheet.

She wanted to move back, to pull away, but she knew that, deep down, she would be able to do this. She just had to tell herself that it was nothing, that the bodies were made out of plastic, and that all she had to do was analyze the patterns and bruises. That's all she had to do.

Jenrya leaned forward, reaching underneath each stretcher to unhook the wheels that attached just underneath the metal bed. The wheels clicked down, reminding her of an airplane's landing wheels, and clicked into place. Slowly, one by one, Jenrya wheeled them to one side of the room, keeping enough distance between so that someone could walk around each bed without bumping into another.

Yamato stepped forward to help the coroner, locking the wheels in place so that the stretchers did not budge. That way, if they did hit one, it would not roll away and hit something.

Turning, one he completed the brief task; Yamato faced Mimi, who had grown pale with fearful anticipation. He knew that her heart was pounding in her chest, ramming violently against her ribs. He knew exactly how breathless and helpless she was feeling; he had felt the exact same way his first time in the morgue.

At least he hadn't thrown up, unlike Taichi.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, after thanking Jenrya, Yamato focused his gaze on hers.

"Now, Tachikawa-san, I understand that you must be nervous. What I want you to do is take a few deep breaths, and try to focus all of your attention on the belief that these are dummies. All right? Just pretend that they are made out of wax, and you're studying for an exam, or teaching a few students about the reasoning behind the injuries." He could see the fear aglow in her eyes, and could almost read her thoughts, her incessant worries. "I promise you, they will not smell. We have already taken care of that, so you won't have to smell anything that will make you think they're real."

She slowly nodded, taking in several shaky, deep breaths in an attempt to ease her erratic nerves. Closing her eyes, she took in one last deep breath, willing herself to focus on the 'fact' that the bodies were plastic. This was nothing but a demonstration, an exam by Itashi-shacho to prove that she was still able to create psychological profiles. They were simply fake bodies. They were _not_ real.

Opening her eyes, she tied her hair back into a ponytail, ensuring that strands of it would not fall onto the victims, no, cut that, dummies, and 'contaminate' anything. Taking in one last breath, she nodded a second time.

"All right, I'm ready."

Smiling down at her, Yamato lead the way over to the two bodies on the far right side. He gestured to them. "They are the first couple who was attacked, a couple weeks ago. We will start from the first attacks and then go down to the latest ones. You will not have to do the ones we found tonight; you have already done more than enough for those two."

Jenrya lifted his head, glancing towards the therapist and Lieutenant. "Hey, Lt, you might want to get some paper to take notes. I have a clipboard on the counter over there." Yamato gestured a thanks and headed towards the clipboard and searched for a pen. "And you might want to wear gloves, eh?"

Tossing a pair of latex gloves to Mimi, Yamato said another thanks to Jenrya, before returning, and slowly pulling back the first two sheets.

She couldn't help it; she gaped in awe and fear. Both bodies were lean, yet short in stature, and the woman possessed a very small chest. However, these small things were barely noticed by the living woman; it was the hue of their skin that seemed to amaze her. The tanned flesh had grown pale with death, gathering a blue undertone that seemed to shift and grow duller or brighter depending on the amount of light on the skin. This flesh was mottled and dotted with bruises, ranging in size from large to small, marring the skin that was, most likely, unblemished and beautiful. Skin that used to glow with life.

She slowly walked around the bodies, noting the placement of the bruises, noticing that they were placed in the same spots on both bodies.

"Lieutenant, can you tell me which bruises were caused by the killer, and which ones by the lover? Or is it impossible to tell which ones were formed earlier, and which ones were done later?"

"Ah, hold on a second." Yamato turned and walked over to a filing cabinet nearby, pulling six folders. He opened the first two, placing them onto a moving table usually used for placing organs on.

"According to the examiner, the bruises were caused within such a short amount of time, meaning that they were formed so close to one another, that it's difficult to tell which ones were caused during sexual intercourse, and which were caused by the killer."

Nodding her head slowly, she continued to walk around the bodies, examining the waxy flesh with her focused, trained gaze. "Both were sexually assaulted." She gestured to the genitalia of both people. "The woman more so than the man, in this case." She couldn't help but lean forward, grasping the flaccid, lifeless shaft of the deceased male. "He was cut. Almost as though someone was trying to circumcise him." She lifted her head. "Had this man been circumcised before death?"

The blond Lieutenant shook his head, disgust clearly visible on his face. "Past medical reports do not list any circumcision, meaning that no, he was not circumcised before his death."

Swallowing thickly, she closed her eyes, trying her hardest to remain calm, cool, and collected. "Obviously the killer has some strange idea that circumcision must be beneficial, or good. Perhaps it is his particular religion or belief he possesses. Maybe it was something that enforced upon him as a child."

"You say him. So you are suggesting that the killer is a male?"

"Only a male would be able to take on the strength of this man." She gestured to the body of the deceased man. "Furthermore, it would seem as though the killer had been far more entertained in torturing the female. She is bruised far more than the male, and there are more cuts on her. So, it would seem that he holds a grudge against females."

Yamato jotted down these notes, quite content that they were going somewhere with the profiling.

"Lieutenant, do you know whether this woman was a Sub or Domme?"

Glancing up, Yamato looked briefly over the files. "Well, taking in the fact that she wore a collar with a loop, we can automatically assume that she was a Sub." He quickly glanced through the other three females' profiles. "As a matter of fact, all of the females were Subs."

Nodding, she examined the woman's body. "So, the killer has something against powerless women. Or, well, women who have the power to chose who they want to be with, and allow themselves to be degraded sexually. Women who enjoy being treated as such." She chewed on her bottom lip. "This man must have been denied before by a Sub, a Sub he wanted really badly. And she, a lower, supposedly powerless woman, had told him off, telling him that he wasn't good enough for her." She noted the rope marks on the woman's wrist, knowing fully well that no Dom would have tied the rope tight enough to bruise and mar the wrists; those were one of the few places Doms were allowed to mark, as they were usually seen in the public.

"He wanted to make her powerless; he tied her down. He wanted her to be powerless, he wanted to be in full control for once, and not have a woman deny him." She gestured to the bruising around the woman's lips. "He gagged her, forcefully. Doms do not gag or tie a Sub hard enough to create bruises in visible places; the bruising and marks raise questions that do not want to be answered. This man, the killer, wanted to be sure that he had control, and that she would be in constant pain."

Jenrya couldn't help but pause in his work, glancing towards the psychologist as she examined the meaning behind the bruises, the marks, and the death.

"Just by looking at these two bodies, I can already assume that the killer had been abused as a child, most likely by a female. Most probably by his mother." A light lit in her mind.

Without asking for consent, she tossed off the blankets of all of the female bodies, glancing at them one by one, slowly making connections in her mind.

"These women look alike. Some have similar hair colour, some the same facial structure, others same stature. But, in the end, all of the women possess some similarity." She looked to Yamato. "These woman are just for practice. He's working his way to the one woman he wants. And something tells me that it's the Sub who turned him down, and he's not going to be nice."

* * *

He sat behind his desk, an hour or so after they had completed the examination of the bodies. It was nearing 4 in the morning, and he had yet to call Taichi and inform him of the circumstances and profile. He knew that Taichi was most likely sleeping, or 'distracting' his lovely Domme.

Rubbing his face as weariness hit him, Yamato chugged down his fifth cup of coffee, his eyes falling on the woman who lay on the couch in his office.

Some colour had returned to her skin, but she was still quite pale. He knew that when she woke up, she would still feel queasy, but would slowly grow ravenous. The poor woman, when Jenrya had wheeled in a latest victim, the stench of death had been far too strong for the woman to handle.

She had run to the bathroom and vomited.

He knew that she was embarrassed, and had told her not to be; she had done great for her first time in the morgue, and done an excellent job in forming a profile. They were done for the time being, until they were able to create a deeper, easier to follow profile.

For the time being, he was content in watching the woman's chest rise and fall with each breath, his eyes following the line of her lean body, of the curvy shape as it turned on the couch, falling onto her back.

Oh, the view had grown delicious; the blouse had popped open, further exposing her lush, full breasts.

He felt his groin tighten, his shaft twitch against the smooth leather of his pants. How he ached to go over there and wake her, to tug off her pants and use his hands and mouth to bring her into a wakeful state. Then, he would show her just how much he wanted her, just how hard she made him.

He could already tell how she would want it; he knew that she would beg for him to be hard, rough, to treat her like she was his and nobody else's. He would take her and show her again and again just whom she was.

Groaning with delight, he could help but rub his hand slowly against the aching bulge in his pants. Just once, one long, slow rub before forcing his attention on his work, and he would begin the process anew, like a never-ending circle of lust.

Just what was it about this woman that made him want to break away from the chains and take her in every place, and almost every way?

Sighing heavily, he lay his head down on his desk, and barely fought when waves of weariness consumed him, dragging him into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

**I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please don't forget my review/post rule. Thanks!!**

**I promise to post the next chapter a lot faster!!**

**Ciao.**


	5. Focus

**Note: I am VERY SORRY that it has been taking me so long to finish this chapter. I have at least three reasons why!**

**Reason number one: I just recently bought a Nintendo DS Lite and have been obsessed with playing Animal Crossing: Wild World, and Pokemon Ruby Version.**

**Reason number two: I have been constantly plagued by the Writer's Block Virus, and it is a fucking BITCH!**

**Reason number three: As I stated in my profile, I hurt my arm a short while ago, and have been going through the horrible torment of having my arm in a fucking sling. And it fucking kills me to write, so I can only write for a little bit before giving up and playing DS nearly one-handed.  
Fuck salt.**

**I love you beautiful reviewers.**

**DISCLAIMER: limey smut in this chapter. Mrowr.**

**Chapter 5**

**Focus**

A soft gasp escaped her lips, body arching upwards as the gentle caress of his hands trailed down her body. His fingers teased her nipples tenderly, tugging them into twin, rosy peaks, before trailing down the curves of her ample, creamy breasts.

His breath was hot and arousing, soft and sensual against the curve of her throat, quiet, growl-like whispers of sexual desires escaping his lips. Her own breath mingled with his as the whispers drew away, and his lips met hers in a heated, passionate kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance, his hands finding the curve of her buttocks and pulling her towards him.

The fiery, hard length of his arousal met the wet, moist heat between her thighs, their clothing dissipating, simply fading away as their arousal grew.

Her nails dug into his back, his mouth finding her breasts and nipples, teasing the pierced points into aching, needful peaks of desire. His fingers dug into her buttocks, his touch roughening as their passion grew. His teeth became harsher, causing electrical pulses of pain to mingle with the waves of pleasure, her body igniting with the heat.

The whispered words grew coarse and rough, his voice deepening, darkening as delightful, painful lust consumed their bodies His words became more explicit, far more detailed and needful, telling, demanding just what he wanted.

Their bodies shifted, and she reveled in the loud groan that escaped his lips as her warm mouth tightened around his arousal. It was what he had wanted, what he had commanded her to do. She would take great pleasure in obeying him.

His hands traveled along as much of her body as he could grasp, tugging roughly on her hair, pushing her further along his length as her tongue swirled and teeth nibbled. Her mouth was so hot and moist, such a close imitation of what he wanted to fuck senseless.

He found her nipples, teased and tormented them, gaining humming moans in response that sent electrical waves of pleasure pulsing through his body. His hands grasped her shoulders, tugging her up along his body, earning a gasp of surprise from her full, plump and bruised lips.

He pulled her head down, crushing her mouth to his as the need to kiss her became far too overwhelming, and the simple desire yearned to be satiated lest he suffer for eternity.

Take me.

Her body screamed in response to his crushing lips.

Use me.

Her womb tightened, unleashing a wave of molten pleasure to seep down her thighs.

Fuck me.

Her body jerked, tensing in anticipation as he eased towards her entrance.

Love me.

She woke.

(End of smut scene.)

Her breathing had grown erratic and ragged, sharp, gasping breaths that escaped her tired, aching lungs that yearned for that delightful thing called oxygen. Her heart palpated dangerously fast against her ribs, her mind racing with fearful thoughts, anxiety causing her to wonder if a rib would pierce her heart.

But, the rapid pace of her heart and gasping of air were not caused by the anticipation of fear.

No. The tightening of her body, the sweat coating her skin, and the heat she felt radiating from the moist center of her thighs told her otherwise.

Her breath gasped in pleasurable anticipation, and her heart raced with desire.

Never before had she felt such a strong, powerful desire. Never, not once in her life, had she felt a yearning so great, so strong, that she actually felt the need to release some of the tension by her own hand in a public place.

Her eyes fell on him, sleeping soundlessly at his desk, dark lashes dusting his cheeks, thin, yet soft mouth turned slightly, as though he, too, dreamed of a pleasurable fantasy that he ached to bring to life.

But the dream had felt so real. She could still feel his hands on her body, his lips teasing her into a peak of arousal, and his hard length beginning to ease into her wet entrance.

How she had wanted to beg, to plead for him to hurry, for him to take her and show her just what pleasure was. How she still wanted to do that, to fall on her knees in front of him, to pull him out in all his glory, tease him with her tongue while begging for him to show her how she should be treated.

He could take her on the desk, rough and powerful, using his rugged muscles to pin her down, his large, slightly callused hands spreading her legs, allowing him access to her aching core. Or he could push her up against the couch, forcing her breasts to rub against the material of the back, his hands grasping her buttocks, smacking it, as he thrust into her from behind. Taking her hard and deep.

Or perhaps against the door or wall…

She couldn't help but slap at her right hand, cursing herself for allowing her reveries to take such control of her mind that she no longer had control over her body parts. Her hand had slowly drifted down and had been resting against her inner thigh when she had punished it, and herself, for the lack of attention paid to the surroundings.

But it was so strange; never before had she felt so hot, so aware of her body. She felt her womb clench tightly before relaxing, allowing a wave of moisture to flood her underwear. She could swear that it not only soaked her panties, but the pants she wore, as well.

She needed to think about something else.

Sitting up, she brushed her hair back from her face, trying her hardest to fall back into her routine state of mind. She attempted profusely to qualm her body tremors and ease her overactive imagination. She tried her hardest to focus on something, anything, other than the sensual Adonis before her, sleeping and begging for a good fucking.

"Lieutenant Ishida? Can I come in?"

Luck, perhaps, was on her side in her quest to be rid of her arousal.

A woman's voice filtered from the other side of the foggy-glassed door.

"Yamato? I'm going to come in, all right? I have coffee."

The door slowly opened and a woman stuck her head in. Her long, purple hair fell over her shoulders, falling along the side of the door, shifting as her head tilted in search for the sleeping beauty.

A pair doe eyes met Mimi's gaze from behind a small, round pair of glasses. They blinked once; a second time, and a third before the woman's unpainted lips curled into a bright, teasing smile. Her chocolate eyes gleaned in joy and curiosity, and the woman slipped into the office, quietly shutting the door behind her, before making a beeline to the unsuspecting brunette on the couch.

A faintly tanned hand was thrust into Mimi's face, and the brunette gazed at the appendage for a moment before making a quiet 'oh' sound, and grasping it in response.

"Uh … hi?"

"Good day!" The woman's voice was loud, yet, apparently not loud enough to wake Yamato. "I'm Inoue Miyako, policewoman extraordinaire. Actually, I'm more along the lines of a simple Detective on the case, but you know, policewoman sounds pretty hot." She winked.

Mimi couldn't help but gape at the woman standing before her. She was tall, definitely much taller than Mimi, and in such good shape that her body was lean, muscled, and bore barely any signs of fatty tissue. The woman was definitely lucky.

As the woman frowned at the brunette, Mimi slapped her mouth shut and, as she lifted her hand to grasp Miyako's, her face burned a bright vermilion.

"Ta…Tachikawa Mimi." She let go of Miyako's hand. "I'm, uh, sort of, I guess you could say…hired help."

Laughing, Miyako turned her back to the brunette to place a tray on the dresser, which served as a filing cabinet and table for sugar dispensers, straws, and an assortment of condiments and utensils used for food and beverages. Mimi had barely noticed the tray, a small, metal sheet holding a single mug of coffee, and instantly felt her mouth water at the scent of the bitter caffeine.

"I'm sorry I only brought in one." Mimi turned her attention to the woman. "Yamato didn't tell us that he had a, uh, 'guest'. Then again…" she glanced towards the sleeping male, "he rarely falls asleep in his office, either."

"It's very possible she wore him out."

Her head spun in the direction of the chuckling male voice, finding a grinning, obviously entertained Taichi leaning against the doorframe.

"Tai! Oh, you're just horrible, aren't you?" Miyako giggled.

"Well, this does look suspicious, doesn't it? Our Lieutenant is asleep in his office for the first time, as well as a young woman. It does seem very suspicious." Taichi winked.

"She did call herself the 'hired help'."

"Leave the poor girl alone, she's had a rough night."

The dark, husky voice came from the mop of blonde hair that was slowly being lifted from the desk top, exposing the faintly tanned, masculine planes of Ishida Yamato's face.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, Lieutenant!"

"Good morning to you too, Miyako." Yamato rubbed his face with his hands. "Now, somebody quickly explain why you and Taichi are in my office, and make it good. I haven't had coffee yet, and don't like being woken up by loud noises."

"I don't think anyone likes being woken up by loud noises," Taichi pointed out.

Miyako cut in before Yamato could make a sarcastic retort. "_I_ came into your office to bring you your daily coffee and update you on the latest cases." She gestured to the coffee and flashed a few sheets of paper lying beside it, easily missed by Mimi since the tray possessed a thick edge, which blocked her view to the papers. "When I came in, you were sleeping, and Tachikawa-san had most likely just woken up. We introduced ourselves, and then Tai barged in, like always."

Taking a deep swig of his coffee, he let the bitter beverage swirl around his mouth, reveling in the awakening powers of caffeine, before thinking about some sort of reply.

"Very well, so I assume that you will respect my request to not let anyone know I was sleeping in my office. Especially Ken?"

When the two nodded, Yamato leaned back in his seat, glancing towards the file Miyako had left on the tray.

"Please, update me on everything you know. I'm guessing that file is just on last night's murders?"

"Your assumptions are correct, Lieutenant." Miyako instantly changed roles, switching from the jovial, free spirited girl to a serious, determined woman focusing intently on her job. She reached over, grabbed the file and handed it to Yamato.

"It was made quite obvious last night that the attack was far different from the previous ones. Not only were the bodies found indoor, unlike the others, which were found in outdoor, public areas, but the attacker was far more vicious, mostly towards the female."

Taichi continued to lean on the doorframe, and yet, added his input. "The female was sexually assaulted."

"How so?"

Mimi sat up and listened fervently to the discussion. She needed to know every little detail about the crimes in order to make a proper profile. Furthermore, it was an excellent way of distracting her from her pulsating, yearning pussy. Oh, how she ached to be alone with that blond haired Lieutenant. Maybe he could show her a thing or two.

_Focus, Mimi._

"Well, although there were signs that the victims engaged in sexual activity, which was made quite obvious due to their location, it was discovered that the woman's body was, in fact, penetrated postmortem (after death)."

"You're bullshitting."

"We're not." Miyako gestured to the file. "If you turn to page four, the coroner left a detailed description of the evidence that indicated the woman's body was raped."

"Any chance that there are seminal fluids left behind in her body?"

"No, sir. The only seminal fluids we found were matched to her partner. However, we did find some latex residue. Obviously, our killer is a little to smart to just go in without protection."

"I assume it was done after the victim was assaulted? It would have been impossible that it was done after; there was far too much blood."

"Most definitely. However, what's strange is that," Miyako paused briefly, "he, know we know for sure that it's a he, left her vagina more intact that the other victims'. It's almost as though he wanted us to know that she was assaulted. Maybe he wanted us to think that she _wanted_ him to rape her. We know this because his attack was focused solely on the area _surrounding_ her vagina. He barely came close to touching her labia or entrance."

Taichi continued, "Which means all of the blood and so forth came from her thighs."

"Her cause of death?"

"Well, I suppose that would be the obvious blood loss; he did manage to cut her femoral artery." Miyako chewed her lower lip. "But the cut, although it was an artery, wasn't deep enough to kill her within seconds. It was almost like a graze. No, for some reason he decided to hit her on the back of the head with a blunt object."

"Small pieces of plastic and iron were found embedded in her scalp. We can assume that it could have been a hammer, or something from the room. But we can't identify the item; he repeatedly hit her to any indentation that would help us identify the object has been destroyed. All we have are the iron and plastic residues, and those residues are very common and found in thousands of household items."

"We're not sure why he killed her in a different manner, but …"

"He went after her brain. Her mind." Mimi stood up, brushing her hands on her pants. She walked over to the bulletin board, glancing at the photos of the previous crimes that were placed there. "She knew him, she said something to him, made a choice, and he wanted to get back at her for it. He killed the man, and then tied her up, removed all of her free will. He abused her, tortured her, but couldn't bear to see pain in her eyes when he would take her. But he wanted to make her pay for making those decisions."

She glanced towards the others. "It was his way of telling the world that she was _his_. He took away her free will, he took away her mind, he took away her life, and he took away her modesty. He wanted to tell the world that _he_ was in control, and that she was _his_."

She paced slightly. "But why her? Out of all of them, why did she cause so much anger? Such hate?"

The policemen and policewoman watched in silence as the brunette paced fervently, nearly burning a hole into Yamato's office floor, listening to her quiet mutterings and questions, her incessant why's. They knew, deep down, that they were not supposed to interrupt; she was thinking, deep in thought, and the slightest interruption could disrupt all of the thoughts swirling through her mind.

Yamato watched her expressions with a gleeful passion. Her brows knitted together, eyes hardening, yet shinning brilliantly as emotions flittered in the whiskey orbs. Her full lips pursed before moving quickly as she muttered quiet words. How he enjoyed watching her face change with each thought and emotion. He could spend all day, sitting there and watching her think.

There was just something about him that unearthed this lustful passion, and, eventually, he intended to find out what it was.

Her tongue darted out, quickly moistening her lips as she paused, running a hand through her slightly disheveled hair.

His groin tightened in response, his mind racing with images of that very tongue teasing him, of those plump lips brining him to the peak of desire. His eyes followed the length of her hair, focusing intently on the slight curve of her buttocks. Kami, those pants were so perfect on her ass, so tight that it made his own pants tighten as his arousal increased.

How he wanted to just go over there and tap that ass, to grab it as he crushed his mouth to hers.

"She denied him something he valued. She was _supposed_ to be under _his_ control, but _she_ denied _him_. She controlled the situation, her choices, and he couldn't."

Her melodic voice broke through his thoughts, and he strained to drag his mind away from the lustful images to the present tense. However, he couldn't help but wonder how her voice would sound in the midst of a passionate encounter? Would it thicken, deepen with desire? Or would it become breathy, higher-pitched as he brought her closer to the peak?

_Focus, Yamato_.

"He's a Dom, and she's a Sub. She's _supposed_ to obey his very command. At least, in his book she is."

Miyako couldn't help but break into her monologue, knowing fully well that the waiting period was over, and whatever Mimi needed to think about was thought of and developed in her mind.

"So, you're saying that he's a different type of Dom? How so?"

"Don't you get it? He follows the stereotypes to a T. If the stereotype says that the Subs have no free will, then he believes that the Subs will not be allowed free will. If it says that Doms are not to be questioned, and so forth, then they are not supposed to be questioned. The stereotype he follows is that the Dom possesses all of the power; if the Dom wants a Sub, then she or he cannot deny him or her. He believes that the Subs are _not_ humans with free will, but simple puppets used for pleasurable acts.

"Certainly, a lot of Subs _love_ that idea and sex life, but he's taking this too far. He wants to just use them as tools, like how a woman uses a vibrator. She uses it until _she's_ satisfied, then cleans it and puts it away. That's how he will treat his Subs." She rubbed her hands over her face. "No wonder they all denied him. This man isn't a Dom, he's just some sicko."

She turned to face the group, obviously appalled and disgusted at the idea of such a being existing. "Subs are supposed to have a free will, both in the real world, and in the bedroom. It's the rules on the contracts, as well as simple courtesy and respect for them as human beings. Subs are allowed to say no to whomever they want to, and they are allowed to say yes. In the end, they choose their partners, not the other way around. This man obviously has no respect for anybody."

Yamato stood up. "So this plays into the idea that he was abused as a child? Most likely sexually? That his controlling urges are enforced by the fact that he was controlled as a kid? Is that what you were trying to describe last night?"

"Exactly!"

Taichi crossed his arms, never once moving from the doorframe. "So, what we have on our hands is one smart, controlling bastard, who likes to sexually and physically abuse his victims, before killing them. He leaves no fingerprints, no hairs, and no ways to trace him." He frowned. "He has a pattern, but now he broke it. One could say that he did it on purpose, but this kill was too personal. I mean, the only part of the woman that was untouched was her face, believe it or not. He kept her face intact because he wanted to watch it. He knew her."

"But why kill them there? Why not wait like he did with the others?"

"He was consumed by his need to make her pay." Mimi swallowed, realizing for the first time just how parched she was. "She denied him the chance to be his bitch, so he wanted to intervene right away and stop her from being with anyone else. He wasn't thinking clearly. He just wanted to kill her. But someone walked in near the end. Or knocked on the door." She chewed on her lip. "Something happened so he didn't have time to set them up like he did the others."

"Probably the usual security check." At their confused gazes, Yamato continued. "In Erotika's, they have hourly security checks on the rooms. A guard passes the room, checks the door to see if it's locked, knocks on the door, asks for the person's membership and so forth. It's just to ensure that nothing illegal is going on." He took another swig of his coffee. "My guess is, the guard knocked on his door and he panicked. He was lucky, though; the door, when opened, doesn't show the bed. All he had to do was flash his membership and that's…"

"I think we should ask the guards about their hourly checks, eh?"

Mimi reached onto Yamato's desk, and, without asking, pulled a sheet of paper from the wooden surface, went back to the couch and began scrawling down her earlier thoughts.

As he watched her move away, Yamato couldn't help but notice the slight bruises under her eyes and the way her hand trembled faintly as she grasped the paper. Her eyes, despite being aglow with excitement about her new knowledge, were growing paler with hunger and exhaustion.

Sighing softly, he turned to his coworkers. "Maybe later. After we've had something to eat and woken up a bit more." He faced Miyako as Taichi saluted him and left. "Inoue-chan, can you ask Makino-chan to order us some food from Noodles, Noodles? Just the morning special for two, please. Thanks." He waited while Miyako left the room, before turning to Mimi.

"So … did you sleep well?"

He watched as she openly ignored his question, her hand moving fervently, fingers shifting quickly as she excitedly scrawled every thought and spoken word on the paper. It was a wonder that her hand didn't cramp from the sudden use of the muscles.

Sighing, he moved to the front of his desk, leaning back on it, crossing his legs slightly. He sipped his coffee as he watched her, his eyes following the slope of her pale throat, watching as the pale flesh slid under the white blouse. As she shifted, the light shone through the sheer fabric, causing the blood to rush to his nether regions as her breasts were shown.

The ample, creamy mounds were definitely more than a handful, yet not so big that they would completely spill out of his hands. No, they were definitely a lovely, large size. He estimated them to be a C to a D, depending on bra make. How he knew this was simply from experience. Also, due to the fact that Miyako wore an A, as written on the bra he had found in the locker, and that top was nearly bursting from the size of her breasts.

Swallowing thickly, nearly choking on his spit, Yamato attempted to avert his gaze, trying to focus it on anything other that the curvy woman before him. How his hands ached to just reach forward and brush the creamy swells. How his cock yearned to be freed and then shoved into her moist tunnel. He wanted to take her, hard and fast, and yet, at the same time, savour and touch every part of her body.

It was the first time in his life that he barely thought of dominating her. Certainly, the idea of being a Dom in their relationship was appealing and sexual; yet, he found himself aroused without any thoughts whatsoever concerning bondage and being dominant. At least, not to the extreme he was used to.

"Lieutenant, did you say something?"

Her eyes were wide, shimmering in the light, surrounded by the thick, dark lashes. Her lips were begging to be kissed; moving at she spoke that one word that nearly broke his hold on his sanity.

Well, maybe his dominant personality was enhancing her effects on his body.

Mentally kicking himself in the shins, he shrugged slightly, attempting to appear and sound nonchalant as he sipped his coffee.

"I just wanted to know if you slept well. I know that you handled last night very well, actually, better than some trainees, but, well, people do dream when they sleep…" He broke off, letting her piece together the ending of his sentence.

What was it about her that made him care? Why did he find the need to know if she had had nightmares? Why was it that he wanted to comfort her if she hurt? She was just some therapist helping make a profile, that's all.

So why did he care?

She shrugged, trying not to remember the vivid dream she had had that night. She could still feel his rough, warm hands grasping her body, his mouth and tongue sending her to the brink of a mind shattering orgasm. Unconsciously, her hand shifted, drawing a somewhat crude image at the bottom of her report.

Blushing faintly, she tilted her hand, letting her wavy hair tumble forth and block her face's view from him. Quietly, she replied, "It was all right. No dreams, fortunately. But, I've slept on more comfortable couches."

She heard his snort of laughter and glanced in his direction. His eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Well, I'm sorry the couch couldn't have been comfier. At least it was better than a desk." He gestured to the said object, before quickly glancing at the clock. "We overslept."

Mimi couldn't help but let out a snort of her one. "_We_? You mean, _you_ overslept. I was up way before you."

He arched a brow. "Oh, you did now? And what did you do? Watch me sleep?"

She fought back a brilliant blush as her mind confessed that she did watch him. But she couldn't have helped it; the dream had been so strong, and she wanted to wonder it his body would feel just like that against hers.

"Maybe I did." Her lips twitched into a smile. "But I doubt you'll ever know the answer to that."

"Why is that?"

"Because you were sleeping at the time."

He couldn't help but grin in response, casually sipping at his coffee a few more times before placing it on his desk. Stepping away from the wooden object, he made his way over to the bulletin board, his eyes roaming over the images strategically placed there.

The images were dark, crude, pictures of death and torment, scenarios forever captured on film, to be forever imprinted in the minds of those who witnessed the scenes. They were red, almost pouring out blood, overflowing with the crimson substance. He could have sworn that the cork was soaked in the colour.

She watched him with her keen, intelligent eyes, the whiskey orbs glowing with thought and intellect, mind running through scenarios and descriptions of his character. She could not help it; she saw the regret in his twin oceans. She saw the deep-seated pain and agony, the self-loathing and woe that were buried underneath the hardened exterior. Through years of garish experiences, he had built himself a granite wall, blocking all outsiders from entering his mind. She knew that without the wall, he would feel exposed and vulnerable; he needed the wall to live and breathe freely in this cruel world.

Oh, how she would love to simply sit him down and question him, to be able to spend hours analyzing his mind, winding through the complex mazes to find the core of his soul.

Of course, this need was simply unearthed because of her fascination with the brain and mind, not because he sent her body on overdrive every time she simply thought about him. No, she was not fascinated because she was enamored with him. He was simply an interesting subject.

"Tachikawa-chan." His voice brought her out from her sea of thoughts and she glanced towards him, fighting every screaming urge that told her to get up and simply touch him.

"Hai?"

"Did you know Horata Rumiko?"

Instant confusion glittered in her eyes, her lips and brows forming frowns as creases appeared on her forehead. He knew that her insides were tightening, while her mind was racing for some possible explanation to his question. But he would only give her an answer if she asked the right question in response.

The moment of silence seemed to go on for an eternity, all the while her mind was screaming, telling her not to answer, not to let him know about her involvement with Rumiko. If she told him that they had been great friends, she would most certainly be removed from the case; it would make it far too personal for her. Her heart pounded in her chest as fear knotted in her stomach. She wanted, no, _needed_ to be a part of this case. Whether she would admit the truth to him or not, she would fight to remain on this case.

She was not going to let him use her for a few ideas, and then discard her like a useless piece of paper. She absolutely refused, and this refusal enabled anger to ebb and flow in her veins. Fury at the idea of him having, most likely, known of her involvement with Rumiko, and unadulterated anger at the thought that maybe he had only used her to give him facts and theories. Facts and theories that had been unnerving to her, thoughts that had mingled with regret, guilt, and pain, and images that would forever be branded in her mind, giving her nightmares on nights when her mind was not solely focused on eroticism.

She was not going to let him push her away just because she had been a friend to a victim.

_Victim._

Her head fell, eyes watering with tears: droplets of self-hatred and guilt that threatened to spill forth and moisten the paper on her lap.

Rumiko had become nothing but a _victim_, a woman who had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and had become a statistic of the number of murdered women. She was now a number, a label, and even Mimi was becoming used to such a thought.

Rumiko would not be a 'victim'. Mimi refused to let her mind, to let the world around her, change what her heart truly felt about her friend. Rumiko was, had been, a friend, and that friend would be avenged, whether Mr. Lieutenant over there thought Mimi could be on the case or not.

Yamato was unaware of the screams in Mimi's brain, unable to hear anything but the tick of the clock as the silence drew on. He knew, deep down, that she had known Horata. The pained look in her eyes had told him everything last night, whispered to him that she had known, and loved, the woman lying cold and dead on the table.

He didn't know why, but he had to know the truth. To be honest, he really could have cared less if she had known the woman or not, but something inside of him, a curious part of him, had been ignited with the need to know the truth. To know if she had really been paining for a lost loved one.

Sipping his coffee, he waited patiently for her inner turmoil to cease and her mind to come to its senses, and he watched as she slowly lifted her head. The tears glistening in her eyes shocked him, yet his face remained impassive, uncaring. Years of hardening, experience, and practice taught him to never show his emotions. Instead of doing what his heart ached for him to do, instead of going over and caressing her face, asking her what was wrong, he sipped his coffee and waited.

She closed her eyes slowly, before nodding. "I knew her. We had met a few years ago, in high school. I've known her nearly as long as Sora. Our friendship grew when we realized we had similar interests and likes in clubs. She is, or was, very kind."

Nodding slowly, Yamato watched as her eyes opened, the grief replaced by the faintest flickers of fear. What could she possibly fear? Perhaps she thought that the police rules extended to her, as well?

"Tachikawa-chan, do you think, now that I know that you had one befriended Horata, that I would remove you from this case?"

The question startled her, causing her body to jerk involuntarily, and a couple stray tears to slide down her cheeks.

Wiping the droplets away, she gazed at him with confusion and wonder aglow in her whiskey eyes. Was he about to say…?

His lips curled up into a small smile, eyes aglow with amusement. "Tachikawa-chan, you are a vital part of this investigation, and I would not, under almost any circumstances, remove you from this case. Do you understand?"

"Y … Yes."

"Good."

He turned, placing his mug on the desk, before striding towards her. He only had one more question for her…

Leaning forward, he placed on hand on the armrest, the other in the middle of the couch's back, boxing Mimi into the corner of the couch, permitting her no access to an escape route. He further leaned forward, his face inches from hers, a faint smile painted on his lips.

"I just have one more question, Tachikawa-chan."

Fear grew with her eyes, the widened, doe-like orbs surrounded by thick lashes that fluttered up and down as her lids opened and closed with each blink of surprise. Her mouth opened slightly, giving her the most beautifully erotic, surprised expression Yamato had ever seen on any woman.

"I, uh, yes…?"

He needed to know the answer, the reasoning behind her actions, and he _needed_ to know what she had done. He absolutely had to known why all of the women looked alike, and why, they looked like somebody else he knew.

"What were you doing in Erotika's last night, Tachikawa-chan?"

**Well, there it is. After long last, Chapter Five has been completed. **

**I was soooo unsure of how to finish this chapter. And, of course, I went on further hiatus after buying and finishing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in, well, okay… twelve hours, give or take half an hour. Of course, I was interrupted several times by work, and so forth, but yeah…**

**It is a good excuse for not finishing this chapter. Lol. **

**Anyways, please read and review, or, well, if you're reading this, you've already read the whole chapter, so please review. **

**I'm very sorry for my lateness, but I kept getting stuck with writer's block, and every time I went to write, I kept getting interrupted. **

**Again, I'm sorry it took me so damn long to finish this. Please, please review, and I'll try to finish the next chapter ASAP.**

**Ciao. **


	6. Dreams to Nightmares

**NOTE: For those of you who didn't notice, I have reposted Chapter 1 with one, minor change (and, most probably) a minor correction in one sentence.  
In Chapter 1, Yamato mentioned that, after they find the bodies of the first two, the first places to have been 'hit' were Cruella's and Dungeon's, but I have changed it. The first two places to have been 'hit' were Erotika's and Dungeon's to fit information given later in this chapter.**

**Another note: Thanks to Mrs-Ishida-to-You who noted my mistake in calling Mimi "Tachikawa-sensei" and Iori "Hida-chan". Thanks a whole bunch. I'm still trying to figure everything out, so please, if anybody sees any other errors involving the 'san's 'chan's' and so forth, please feel free to explain those errors to me in a review and I will immediately correct them and remember that for future reference! **

**That's all. **

**Thanks for the reviews. . I appreciate every single one of them. **

**Chapter 6**

**Dreams to Nightmares**

"_What were you doing in Erotika's last night, Tachikawa-san?"_

Confusion immersed her mind in waves, sending the recent, numbing fear away as tides of perplexity bathed her senses. Why on earth would he be demanding the answer to such a strange question? What did her lifestyle have to do with him? Why did he suddenly have to make it his business?

Annoyance flickered in her eyes, but it was barely a fraction of the attack of irritation that followed the flood of wonder. What right did he have to ask such personal questions? So what if she had been at Erotika's the previous night? It had absolutely nothing to do with him. It had nothing to do with the investigation, nor with him.

So why was he asking such a question?

Her lips turned into a tight scowl as the possibility of his suspicions gnawed at her mind. Was she already losing his trust? Was the fact that her being at the club at the same time as the murder somehow making him question her motives? He already knew that she had known Rumiko, but she hadn't developed on the topic of her deceased friend. Was he questioning her reliability? Her loyalty? Her motives for taking this particular case?

She couldn't just say that she had taken the case, if he knew that she had taken the case only to find Rumiko's killer, and not because she cared much for the others. To be honest, if the bastard had not murdered Rumiko, she would not have taken the case. She would have simply told the Lieutenant that she did not have time for it.

But Rumiko had been killed, and she had accepted the case, and now, her reasons for taking the case were being questioned. In the end, what did her being at Erotika's last night have to do with _anything_? It was strange; he seemed almost jealously angry at the fact that she had gone out last night.

Was he one of those strange guys that decided once he met a girl, he would possess her and all but force her not to do anything without his permission?

But, she wasn't getting the possessive vibe from him; usually the signs were quite obvious in his appearance or stature. He would hold himself in a way that suggested he _wanted_ to possess those nearby, he would lean closer to them, yet stand strong and tall beside them, dominating the image of the group. It would be obvious in his stances that he was possessive.

So why was he asking such a strange question?

A sigh escaped her recently moistened lips, her eyes averting his piercing, blue gaze that threatened to burn a hole into her face. Closing her lids, she took another soft breath before opening her whiskey orbs, facing him, prepared to answer his asinine and useless question with her own asinine, useless, obvious fact.

"Well, why else would I be there? I was out with Sora. Somewhat like a girl's night out, but just the two of us, with Tai making a random appearance."

His brows arched slightly, almost as though he were surprised by her answer. Moving away, standing straight in front of her, he watched her through his scrutinizing, blue eyes, waiting for her to add onto her sentence, wondering if she were telling the whole truth.

He _needed_ to know why she was there. He absolutely needed to know. She may not understand why, and his reasoning for the question would remain silent until he found out the truth. And until he found out if his suspicions were made to be true. Until then, he would remain silent for his sudden need to know the answer.

She wasn't just there with Sora; Tai had looked as though he had been at the club for a while, or, at least, had known that the girls would be there. Tai had known just where to go, and he knew that it was not because it was their usual gathering, 'hang-out' spot in Erotika's. They had planned to meet, and Yamato's arrival had simply been by mere accidental coincidence, which the Chief had questioned last night.

But did she know something that he didn't? A particular pattern? Some kind of signs that indicated when the next crime would be committed? Or did she know something else? Perhaps even the killer?

He needed to know what she wasn't telling him. He just wanted the truth, and, later, he would decide whether he would question or not her answer.

"Tachikawa-san, I need to know the truth." Her eyes lit up with fiery irritation as well as dampening confusion. He continued before she could cut him off, "I know that you were lying. Tai knew exactly where to meet you guys, and you acted as though you had expected him. Did you really go to Erotika's to have a good time, or was it because of something else?"

As he spoke the last six words the flames grew in her eyes, almost turning the whiskey colour into a reddish-orange glow. He took a step back as the flames curled around her features, tightening her brow, forcing her lips into a thin-lipped scowl, and her movements became deliberate and angry.

Slowly, she stood, taking the moment to savour his brief terror at her sudden fury. She was tired, cranky, hungry, aching, and, now, annoyed as Hell. How _dare_ he suggested she went there for 'something else'?

Her index finger found his sternum and stabbed it fiercely.

"How _dare_ you!"

His lips moved to form a sentence, but her furious words cut him off before he could even decide what word to use. "You … you … _bastard_! You ask _me_ to examine all of these … bodies. You ask _me_ for _my_ advice about this psycho! And now, _now_, you have the fucking _nerve_ to insinuate that I have something to do with these killings! I have _never_, not once, in my entire life, been more _insulted_!" She jabbed at his chest. "What kind of Lieutenant are you? How the hell did you get such a high position by making such asinine claims? Who did you pay off? Who do you know? Tell me. Because right now I'm questioning your capability to be a police officer."

Her eyes flashed in warning as he began a rebuttal and he backed away slightly, afraid that her finger would stab a hole through his chest.

"Since you seem to adamant to know everything about me, I'll entertain you just this once." She began to pace for a moment, before returning back to face him. "If you _must_ know, the reason I was there last night was because I'm a Sub. Seriously, why else would I be there? For fuck's sake, it was quite obvious you were, at least, dressed up as a Dom. If you really frequented those clubs, you would've known the meaning of this," she pointed to the collar around her throat, "and you wouldn't be asking me these stupid questions.

"Also, let's not forget that it was a _Friday night_. What do people do on Friday nights? They go out! Well, now, let me state a few more facts for you. 1. I'm single. That means I'm looking for a man. 2. I don't work Friday nights, and neither does Sora. 3. The clinic is closed on weekends. So, what do you think I do on my lonely, boring Friday nights? I go the fuck out and have a good time! What do you do on _your_ Fridays? Spend them at home moping around, doing jack shit? To be honest, I highly doubt it, as you were there, too."

She took a step forward, her eyes flashing brilliantly. "So, tell me the truth. What were _you_ doing at Erotika's on last night? And don't lie. I can tell when somebody's lying to me."

Placing her hands on her hips, she gazed at him, patiently waiting to see what kind of reply he would use. He would make up some kind of excuse or would tell the truth. However, how could she be sure if was really going to tell the truth? For all she knew, he could be an excellent liar.

Licking his lips, he scowled, running a hand through his hair. He had expected her to become rather irritated but not to this extent. Furthermore, he had not expected her to turn the tides on him and ask him the question. It was rather odd, but he would have to deal with it.

Taking a moment to think of his answer, his mind went over her reply, taking into conscious thought that she claimed to be a Sub. Certainly, he had noticed the collar, and had immediately hoped for her to be 'free', but by the mere mention of his knowledge about the collar would immediately allow her to know that he frequented those clubs. So instead, he had remained oblivious to the meaning of her jewelry, pretending to just want to know her reasons for being there.

Exhaling, he knew that he could only tell the truth, although, deep down, he knew that the truth wasn't _that_ bad. He could only wonder as to why she had been so insulted by his simple question. Perhaps she had understood his underlying double entendre, but he hadn't meant for it to be present during his question.

Well, she certainly was good at analyzing people.

"I don't have all day, Lieutenant."

He grinned faintly in response. "Well, neither do I. But, to make the situation lighter, and to shorten it, I will reply with the truth." Her eyes flashed furiously with insult. "The reason I was there was because Tai and I always go there Fridays. We tend to spend our weekends there. He's a Sub, and I'm a Dom, so it's quite obvious that we would only go to clubs like Erotika's. Besides, I like Erotika's; it has a really good atmosphere."

She couldn't help it; she had been recently playing the ever-famous Phoenix Wright, and she had to cry it out.

"Objection! " He arched a brow. "That completely contradicts what you told me last night!"

The brow arched further, his eyes widening before squinting in annoyance. "What the hell are you talking a … Oh shit."

Sighing heavily, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of embarrassment. She had caught him in his ruse, and now he had to tell her the truth of last night's discussion.

"If you really _need_ to know … I lied." Her brows arched this time. Deep down, she feared that either him or her would wind up with their eyebrows in their hair by the end of this discussion; they were arching them so much. "I was undercover last night." It hurt to lie, but he knew that he had to. He couldn't let her think that he had been immediately attracted to her. "The atmosphere was nice, but I'm not into that scene. Tai just told me how to dress to be a Dom, and I went there undercover." She went to speak. "But," he cut her off, "you should know it's because there is a pattern."

"A … pattern?"

He nodded. "Yes, Miyako noted it in her file. There is a small pattern in the killings. It seems that they go in order of bars. Not necessarily alphabetical, we don't know why he's doing it like this, but it seems that he moves from Erotika's to Dungeon's, then to Cruella's before going back to Erotika's. I was there because, beforehand, we had been questioning the idea of a pattern. There were also undercover cops in Dungeon's and Cruella's. So, it's not like I was there for entertainment.

"Besides, I'm not into that 'stuff' anyways. It's just … not for me."

Scowling, she crossed her arms, quietly watching him, waiting for some kind of indication that he was dishonest. So far, he had been telling the truth; she could see it in his eyes and mannerisms. Sighing softly, she leaned back, watching him patiently.

Her mouth opened for her to speak…

"Knock, knock! Breakfast is here!"

The bright, cheery voice broke through the silence in the room and their heads swung to the direction of the door, which had just opened to reveal a petite woman. Her long, auburn hair fell past her shoulders in straight locks, and her bright lavender-blue eyes widened as the sensed the tension in the room.

Ruki had once been a bitter, angry woman, furious with the world, but once she found where she wanted to be, she had grown happier and kinder to those around her. Almost as though she had done a complete 180.

Her pale hands held two large bags, from which a delicious scent wafted and filled the air. The smile plastered to her lips slowly faded, before instantly returning with a vengeance. Despite the tension and obvious anxiety, she knew that, easily, with the mere mention of breakfast, she might be able to divert their conversation from something with near-catastrophic consequences.

Lifting the two bags, she smiled broadly.

"I hate to interrupt, but breakfast just arrived, and it smells good. You better eat it while it's hot."

Mimi visibly relaxed before sinking against the couch, closing her eyes in obvious relief, not only at the fact that she could finally eat, but because the conversation would no be focused on something other than the current topic. She couldn't handle any type of stress or irritation in the morning.

Yamato grinned in reply, moving forward to take the two bags from the receptionist. "Thanks a bunch Makino-chan, I really appreciate it. We hadn't eaten anything since late afternoon yesterday." He moved to place the bags on his desk before fishing out some change. "Here's the money for the bill." He handed it to her, still grinning. "Again, thanks."

Ruki nodded in reaction, taking the money with thanks, before turning away. She knew just why he had said thank you, and it had not been for the meal.

* * *

Sora bounded into the apartment, eyes glinting brightly with glee, a skip to her step as she made her way towards the kitchen. The sweet, delectable scent of baked goods wafted through the air, and immediately, her bounce fell.

Although most would become utterly excited at the scent of delicious food, she knew that it was not a good sign at all. Although most people had a tendency to cook when they were happy, Mimi had a tendency to bake whenever something was on her mind.

She stopped in her tracks at the entrance to the kitchen and gazed at the amount of sweet covering the counter. There had to be at least two dozen cupcakes, a dozen chocolate chip muffins, two strawberry shortcakes, several onigri wrapped up, and she was certain that Mimi was currently making fried ice cream.

Sighing heavily, she leaned against the doorframe, crossed her arms, and watched Mimi make the sweet batter, patiently waiting for her friend to notice her presence.

She nearly dropped the bowl.

"Oh, shit, Sora! I didn't know you were back yet! I'm sorry. I was planning on putting everything away before you got home." A bright flush coated the girl's pale cheeks.

Tapping her foot slightly, the taller girl moved forward to take the bowl from Mimi's hands, placing it aside before facing her friend once more.

"Mimi … is something bothering you?'

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Mimi began to fiddle with them, twisting her fingers and shifting her palms. The aching, irritating need to do something, anything, to distract herself from the daydreams was strong, nearly overpowering her sheer will.

"I, well, no, not exactly."

The whiskey gaze fell to the floor as chocolate eyes bore into her face. As she looked at the white tiles a flash of red filled her mind. Her lashes fluttered shut, her mind willing the images she had fought for so long to disappear.

A warm hand touched her cheek, tilting her head up, compelling her eyes to open and face the caring woman staring at her.

"Meems, please tell me what's bothering you? Is it the case? Did something happen?" Concern, anxiety, and irritation filled the girl's eyes. "If something that horrible happened to you, I'll talk to Tai, see if he can get you off the case."

Shaking her head, Mimi couldn't help it; she moved away to continue making the batter. "No, nothing really happened, per say. I guess it's more of what I saw."

Sitting on a nearby chair, Sora removed her shoes as she waited for her friend to go on. Although Mimi was a therapist, she knew that there were days when Mimi just needed to talk, to let out the feelings she was hiding inside of her and be the patient for once. Mimi was only human, and she would always need a friend to be there for her, to tell her that everything was all right, and that those anxieties, feelings of pain and woe, would pass and happiness would fill her once more.

Slowly, she began to speak, the bowl just there in her hands, her words filling the silence of the room as she described what she had seen, touched, and smelt. The coppery, thick, tang of blood still filled her nostrils so thick that she swore she could taste it in the air. The slick, wet feel of the floor beneath her feet, under her knees sent gooseflesh rippling over her skin, making her feel cold and clammy despite the heat of the kitchen. The sight of the bodies, covered in so much crimson, burned in her mind's eye, screaming at her the stories of pain and horror that those people had experienced in their last moments of life.

Rumiko, lifeless, cold and blue on the examining table, eyes shut, skin pasty and deathly, looking very much like a sleeping doll.

She told her everything, all of the mental turmoil she had experienced, keeping out only one particular detail.

_The dream._

She knew that if she told Sora about the dream, the girl would instantly try and play matchmaker, or warn Mimi that the Lieutenant would not be good for her. It was a private, once-in-a-lifetime fantasy that would never burden her unconscious state of mind again. She would make certain of it. She would never awake with this burning need, this feeling of ecstatic breathlessness, her heart pounding against her ribs, as her blood grew drunk with need.

She would never again feel this way for that gun-wielding Adonis.

As her story finished, the silence consumed the room, no longer depending on the girl's voice to fill the air with a tale. Instead, it just fell thickly to the floor, strong and almost overpowering, filled with the patient waiting as she paused, waiting for her friend to reply with some crude retort or kind words.

Instead, no words were spoken; actions occurred. Hands removed the bowl and placed it aside, and warm arms twined around Mimi's body, her own pushed against Sora's in the most tender, kindest of hugs she had ever received. Her eyes fell shut, a few tears falling free from the lids, trickling slowly down her cheeks as Sora murmured soft, quiet words of love and care.

"Oh Mimi, what have you gotten yourself into?" Her voice nearly cracked. Never, not once in her life since that incident, had she felt such need to comfort her friend. She knew that the memories would slowly be unearthed and flood her mind, and that she needed to help rebuild the dam as soon as possible.

Pulling away, she stared her friend in the eyes, waiting for just a moment before continuing. "Meems, you're my friend, and I care about you, a lot. And I want you to know that if anything about this bothers you again, I'm here for you." She paused. "You can't change what happened; you can't change what you saw, but what you _can_ do is fight to ensure that it will not happen again. You were chosen because you have skills nobody else has, and you have a chance to use those to save more lives than you can possibly imagine. Mimi, darling, I understand that you must be going through a tough time, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, right here, in this house, waiting for you to come to me with your problems.

"You help so many people with their problems, but you need to make time for yours. Please, don't keep everything bottled up inside; if there's something else bothering you, it will keep bothering you until you get rid of it. I promise that I can try and help you the best I can. You know that, right?"

Mimi slowly nodded, before tugging Sora into another tight embrace.

"Oh, Sora, I knew, I thought I knew what I was getting into. I guess I was wrong. I guess it's a little more gruesome than the police novels and movies claim it is." She rubbed her hands over her face, accidentally spreading flour across her cheek. Letting out a loud sigh, she smiled softly. "Sora, thanks. I mean, really, thanks. I'm glad I have you as a friend. It means a lot to me."

Sora grinned in response, watching as the small smile reached the now-glowing eyes of the young woman. She had done her duty for the day, and now, all she had to do was relax.

"It's because I care about you, Meems." She picked up the discarded bowl. "Now, let's finish making this stuff, and then chow down on all of these pastries." She looked over the table before frowning. "What? No brownies?"

Laughter filled the air once more.

* * *

Mondays were always the hardest of days. They were the sign that the week was beginning; there would be no relaxation, and instead, there would be five days of non-stop work and stress until Saturday approached. Monday was harsh, irritating, and much hated by many people in the job force. Especially in October. But, it was part of life, and people simply added it to their daily routine.

Mimi's daily Monday routine was to look over cases in the morning, examining previous clients, double checking to ensure that she had filed away those who belonged to healed patients, and which ones would remain open until the clients felt happy enough to be without aid.

Looking through the file of a young girl, Mimi tapped the tip of her pen against her teeth, sucking on the cap occasionally, tapping the heels of her black shoes on the ground every so often when the mood struck her. The poor girl had been terribly infatuated with her mentor, a defense attorney from a nearby firm. However, when the girl had realized that her 'love' turned out to be gay, she had gone through some strange, psychological, and sexual behaviour.

Mimi smiled as she remembered the naturally strange behaviour of the woman, ranging from silly outbursts about children's shows, to the constant asking about hot dogs, or various other unhealthy foods.

Shutting the file, she placed it into the 'Closed Cases' pile, which was rather small. However, she had just begun her search, and had only gone through about ten so far.

As she opened the next case, her phone buzzed, signaling that the secretary was currently calling her.

"Hai Isuzu, what is it?"

The woman's voice sounded rather raspy over the intercom, mostly due to poor transmission. "There's somebody here to see you, says he doesn't have an appointment, but it's urgent."

She closed the file, putting it aside with the other unopened ones. "What's his name?"

"Hida Iori. He claims he has this really odd issue, and really needs your expertise. He won't tell me why, but he claims that it's serious."

Sighing softly, she began the process of putting the files into her drawers. "Send him in. Tell him the door's unlocked." She turned off the speaker, glancing towards the wall. Their meeting would be short; she only had a half hour before she had to go to a meeting about Halloween, and whether they would be open or not.

The door opened, revealing a rather short, dark eyed man dressed in a plain, gray suit. His head was shaved bald, and his eyebrows were strangely thin, as though he plucked them daily.

Slowly, she stood up, wiping her hands on her black pants before moving forward to take his hand in hers. She watched as his eyes examined her face, waiting patiently as a variety of emotions flickered through them, anger, irritation, hate, and then glee and lust. Instantly, she knew that this man would be fascinating.

"Good morning," she smiled softly, "I'm Tachikawa-san, please, have a seat." She gestured to the large and comfortable chairs located in front of her desk.

The man did as she asked, sitting down in the right hand chair, waiting for her to resume her spot behind the mahogany desk. Opening her drawers, she pulled out a sheet used for new patients.

She jotted down his name at the top, before glancing at him. "So, Hida-san, what brings you to my office?"

He let out a quiet chuckle. "When you say it like that, I feel like some kid in a principle's office."

She smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I never noticed that." She glanced at the paper, noting the first question. "Very well, I suppose we will begin with introductions. I understand you asked to see me, specifically. Why is that?"

Her pen was poised above the paper, waiting patiently for his answer.

His eyes twitched, a scowl glued to his face as it appeared as though violent emotions warred through him.

Her brows creased at the strange behaviour but her face fought to remain as neutral as possible. The main key to getting patients to state their story was to remain as impassive as possible, letting them know that their stories did not bother her.

"I, uh, well, I heard that you were good at what you do. I, uh, really need help. I guess. It's just, oh, I've been having troubles sleeping, and whenever I do, I keep having these weird nightmares and stuff…"

Nodding, she made a mental note to refer him to someone else; nightmares and insomnia were not her fields. It was clearly stated on her desk, as well as her door, that she was a sex therapist.

But that didn't mean she would waste her half hour with him. Leaning forward, she made a small note on the paper about the nightmares. "All right. Before we begin discussing these nightmares, I'd like to know some more basic information about you, such as your location, phone number, the simple stuff."

As his personal information was given, Mimi noted down the margin his behaviour; the way his hands twitched as he gave her his address, the way his breath hitched and turned into a strange pitch as she asked for his phone number, every little action that would help her analyze his problems and personality. It was growing more and more obvious that this man had severe anxiety issues; his legs twitched involuntarily, his eyes darting constantly to the windows, head spinning to glance at the door. He was extremely unnerved, and it couldn't help but unnerve her as well.

It was almost as though he felt he shouldn't be there.

Leaning back in her seat, she flipped open her notebook to a fresh page, pen poised above the crisp, white page, waiting patiently for him to calm down.

"Would you like some tea? Or water? It could help calms your nerves." His eyes flashed with immediate guilt, confusion, and wonder, and she added, "I know you must be nervous, seeing as it is your first time with a psychotherapist. I thought some tea would help you relax." Her eyes flashed with kind concern. "I promise I won't hurt you. And you can choose whatever tea you want. Or even pour your own water if it makes you feel more comfortable."

His eyes fell down to gaze at his knees, shoulders hunching slightly, and she watched his head twitch slightly as he warred with himself. That's when she started seeing the signs.

Dissociative Identity Disorder was not a thing to be taken lightly, especially if it became obvious the victim would cause him, or herself, harm. It was growing more and more obvious that this man had a violent side, an aggressive side, and she knew that if it took over, she might be in big trouble.

Clasping her hands in front of her, she watched, waited, patient as he warred. Then, suddenly, it stopped. The sweat forming on his brow slowly made its lazy way down the curve of his round head, his eyes blinking back the salty fluid as it tried to enter them.

Lifting his head, she saw that his smile was genuine as he gratefully accepted her offer for green tea. He seemed more calm, relaxed now, much more confident, almost as though he had pushed his mental demon aside, forcing it to obey his command.

'_He must feel so…proud.'_ She held the pen once more, tapping it to her lips as she watched him kindly accept the tea, which she had called for, and, almost eagerly, add a spoonful of sugar to the warm beverage.

After he took a few sips, she resumed her earlier poise, pen above the paper, face neutral, waiting quietly for the right moment to begin.

"Is the tea to your liking?"

When he nodded, she took it as a sign that he was content, and, thus, more likely to answer without any battles. She needed him calm and relaxed in order to facilitate the process of their interview. Leaning back, she tugged the notebook closer to her and smiled softly.

"Would you like to tell me about your nightmares?"

She waited as his cheerful smile froze, watched and observed as his hands shook ever so slightly, yet, not enough to spill the tea. Quietly, he placed the cup on the saucer it was given to him on, and folded his hands in his lap.

"They're … real scary. I can't remember everything, but what I do remember is really … frightening."

"Sometimes, it's easier to retell a dream than to keep it inside." He glanced at her, eyes wide in confusion. "It brings a sense of … relief; knowing that it's just a dream. By telling it out loud, some people realize that's it's really just images in their mind, just their imagination, and that, in the end, it's not reality." She smiled softly. "It's something my mother used to tell me, only a little … simpler."

Her whiskey eyes focused on him as a quiet realization dawned in his dark orbs, and they watched his head bob up and down in a nod.

"All right, all right. I guess it … couldn't hurt." He quickly reached forward and gulped down some tea before beginning. "Most of them are the same. I'm in a room, it's dark, but I can make some things out. There are weird things in there, stuff that looks dangerous, like it could hurt somebody, but I don't remember what they are."

At his apologetic look, she nodded, gesturing him to continue. "You don't have to remember all of the details right away, just the basics is fine."

"Okay. So, yeah, I'm in the room, and I hear this noise, and I know it's coming from somebody, and exactly where it's coming from. There's this woman, tied down to something like a bed, but it's not really a bed. More like, well, those sacrificial tomb things you see on Aztec ruins. Anyways, she's there, naked, and she's asking me to let her go. But … but I don't…

"I don't remember much beyond that point. All I remember are these feelings of … taking her. I, I have sex with her," he blushed darkly, "and she … almost enjoys it. But, then, there's all this blood, and I feel so angry and hateful. I think I'm the one making the blood; I think I'm attacking her, hurting her. And she's screaming, begging me to let her go. But I don't. And in the end, she's dead, and I'm … unsatisfied."

A thick silence followed his brief recount of the dream, and she looked down at the words scrawled across the paper. _Chains. Dominance. Sex. Sacrifice. Blood. Screams. Begs. Death. Unsatisfied._

Despite all of her years of expertise, she couldn't help but feel just a bit unnerved.

* * *

Making her way along the carpeted hallway, Mimi held her files in the crook of her arm, her footsteps sure, yet her mind completely lost. The man had been so strange. He had described such a violent dream, and later confessed to having strange, blank spaces in his memory, weird spots where he couldn't remember anything. Sometimes, he would remember smells, like the sweet tang of copper, or the rich scent of flowers, yet, at other times, he tasted the copper, and vomited the sweet, powerful flavours lodged in his throat.

He was certainly a strange man, and would most definitely be her more fascinating case yet.

If only he could remember everything about his dream.

She had asked him if the woman had always looked the same, wondering if he had a grudge against an ex-girlfriend, or somebody who had turned him down, and he had replied with a grunt for a yes. He was ashamed of the dreams, guilty for having these random blank memories, and feared that he had done something awful at some point in time.

Sighing softly, her mind slowly fell away from thoughts about the man, whose dark, haunted eyes started at her with a mixture of fear and hate, and turned towards the task at hand.

Halloween.

She couldn't wait. Halloween was a sign that the fetish nights were coming up, and she was excited to finish her costume. She knew that it would not be the most extravagant costume at Erotika's; they tended to draw in such a large crowd of people that there were always a huge variety of costumes. Sometimes, drag queens would come in, wearing bright headdresses and vibrant outfits, or occasionally, those who are not part of the scene would come in, dressed normal, or trying to appear part of the scene, yet, making it obvious that they were not into it.

Her outfit would be spectacular, and if that jerk of a cop showed up, she would show him just was a real Sub was, and point out to him who real Doms were.

Just as she reached the door, a ringing phone broke through her thoughts, and she dropped several sheets in the process of fishing the electronic device out of her pocket.

"Moshi, moshi, Tachikawa here."

"Tachikawa-san, where are you?"

Speak of the devil…

She squatted down, picking up the sheets from the floor, attempting to stick them back into her folder.

"I'm at work, where else would I be at 11am on a Monday?"

"Well, I need you here."

Frowning, she stood and placed her sheets on a table in the hall. Cocking her hip, she pursed her lips. "And where is it you need me to be, Lieutenant?"

"Fresh crime scene. He's going after them faster now."

"Oh shit."

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it.  
I'm very sorry for the long hiatus. I was having constant internet problems, and with the restart of school, things have been somewhat hectic. I've somehow managed to complete this chapter, and am already halfway done the next one.**

**Also, feel lucky, I have finished outlines for Chapter 8 and 9 as well, so be proud!!!!**

**Like always, the review/post rule applies.**

**Thanks for reading. It makes me happy every time I know that somebody has read my work and enjoyed it. So please, I beg of you to review and let me know how you feel. Don't forget, I also accept constructive criticism, but nothing crude and so forth, those will be deleted and the user shall be blocked.**

**Thanks for all of your support so far. I promise to get the next chapter posted sooner. (Although the last promise didn't really get kept, eh? Well, I SUPER promise. So there).**

**Ciao! **


	7. Blood Loss

**Chapter 7**

**Blood Loss**

"Oh shit."

Yamato shoved his hands into his pockets, having removed the latex gloves from them only moments before.

"That's exactly what I thought."

Mimi sighed heavily, feeling rather glad that she had decided to put her hair into a ponytail. Looking through the supplies in the open trunk, shuffling through the items, searching for little, plastic wrappers to put on over the sneakers she had just changed into.

Thank Kami that Sora had left a pair of running shoes in the car the other day.

Leaning against the car, she began the process of rolling her pants and placing the safety wrappers over her shoes. Sora would kill her if she got blood on her white sneakers, and she didn't want to leave tracks all over the scene and possibly contaminate it.

Pulling out a pair of latex gloves, she slipped them on before grabbing a hold of a pen and notebook. Turning to Yamato, she took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, before reopening them, strength and determination taking over the sudden fear that had closed around her throat.

She knew what the smell would be like, the sickly scent of rotted flesh that filled the air and clung to one's nostrils for hours afterwards. The taste of it would be on her tongue for days, sticking to the back of her throat, clogging it and forcing her to breathe through her nose, which would only cause the situation to grow worse.

Sighing heavily, she brushed a stray strand from her face, trying to calm her nerves to the best of her ability, praying that it wasn't too bad. It was chilly today, meaning that there was no heat to quicken the process and cause the scents to grow stronger. The wind was cool, soft against her skin, like sweet caresses, soft whispers telling her that it would be okay.

She thought of Sora, her friend, the sister she never had, and thought of their embrace in the kitchen.

Sora, with her kind words and endless love, who believed in her, and knew that Mimi would be able to go through with this. Sora was right, Mimi couldn't change the past, but her actions today would help her mould the future, hopefully, into something better.

"All right, Lieutenant, let's get this done and over with so I can get back to work."

Slipping on a fresh pair of latex gloves and plastic booties, Yamato nodded, following her with a voice recorder in hand. It was small, silver, with only the necessary buttons, and reminded her a lot of miniature MP3's, or iPods.

Focusing on the object, she made her way over to the scene with Yamato, nodding to Taichi as she passed him.

The dark-haired man who had also been present at the request to her was standing off to the side, looking down at the scene with a frown. A lock of his blue-black hair fell and tickled his cheek, and, almost as though it were a sign of their arrival, as he moved to flick it out of the way, he spotted the duo.

Walking over to them, Mimi saw the wear and tear in his eyes, the exhaustion in his pale skin, and the need, the passion, to find the killer deep inside of him. Although his eyes had grown dark, like a stormy ocean, they still held some spark, some faint, flicker of light that told her that he would never give up.

Glancing towards Yamato, she saw that, in his eyes as well, the same spark glowed fiercely, perhaps even stronger than in the other man's.

Looking around her, she couldn't help but feel almost illuminated in the scene, blinding by the light she saw in the eyes of the crew, warmed with the feeling that they would never give up the fight, and would always do what it takes to achieve justice.

The light wrapped itself around her body, trickling through her veins, causing her heart to beat the substance throughout her body, causing her to almost become giddy with glee and passionate with the need to fight.

As her eyes fell on the twisted, mangled bodies, all light left her.

This was evil, pure, cruel, vicious, evil intent written all over the butchered corpses. This was the darkness in the world, the shadows that crept out every night, each time the sun's warmth faded into temporary darkness. This was what consumed the hearts of those who were weak and without that spark. This was what she was to fight against.

She couldn't help but wonder if, when they looked into her eyes, she had a spark. Did her eyes have a light in the back, like the lone candle lit in a house on a snowy night, patiently waiting, hopeful that the storm will fade into a beautiful world of love and light? Or was she slowly succumbing to the darkness, shadows of doubt, glimmers of fear darkening her orbs?

She wasn't sure; she could never be sure. Mirrors lied to her; they told her things there were not true. They were like words and humans, easily corrupted and deceitful.

She glanced to the blond man beside her, and couldn't help but wish she could take back her words. No, not all humans were corrupted and deceitful; there were those out there who lived truthful, honest, pure lives, searching for a way to increase the purity in the lives of others.

Yamato was one of them. One of the kind, caring people in a world of hate and anger.

Their words brought her out of her reveries, tugging her back to harsh reality.

"Got any I.D.s on them?"

The brunet nodded, holding out a wallet. "Found it in the male's back pocket. Took a picture of it first," he gestured to the camera on a tripod nearby, "and then tugged it out."

Yamato flipped open the wallet and began going through the numerous credit cards. "He still has all of his cards and money. Why is that? The body has been lying out in this alley since about 2am, so why hasn't anybody searched for money? It seems a little strange to me."

The brunet shrugged. "No clue. All I know is that our male is 30, married, and named Diedara Kyo. And, get this…"

"He's not married to her?"

"Nope. We found a school I.D. on her. Kinomoto Arisa, age 19, going to University."

"Shit."

"Seems like we've been saying that a lot today," Mimi added just loud enough to get their attention. "And it seems like Kyo here had a thing for younger women. Anything else important about them?" She smiled. "Oh, yes, Tachikawa Mimi."

"We've met before. Ichijouji Ken." He smiled in return before focusing on the case. "Anyways, there's nothing too different. I guess you could say that he has changed his search a bit."

"How so?" Mimi immediately began to note it down on the paper.

"Well, beforehand it was quite obvious that our killer was after bulky, stereotypical Goth boys. But now, it seems that he's changed his views, and likes blonds more. Or maybe he just couldn't find what he wanted, I'm not sure."

"Really? Interesting. Anything about the female?"

"Nothing really, her picture fits her in the profile he seems to have followed, brown hair, brown eyes, and the whole shebang. The usual, I guess you could say."

"All right. Well, I'll let you finish up with your picture taking, while Tachikawa-san and I do a little round. Sound good?" Yamato gestured to the camera.

Ken shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. I'll let you guys do what you need to do and get back to my picture duty." He grinned. "Tai said that he feels too much like a girl, taking pictures." He glanced to the crime scene and all joy faded from his face. "But, to be honest, I don't feel like a girl at all taking pictures of this."

"Go ahead and take a break." Yamato patted Ken on the back. "We won't be too long, but take as long as you need. Have some coffee or something."

"All right." The man began walking away. "At least this is better than getting called in at 4am, right?"

"Right."

Yamato turned to face Mimi, glancing towards the crime scene before sighing. "All right, we better get this done and over with. I promise you that it will be just as fun as the other night. Maybe a little easier due to the weather." He sniffed the air. "As you can tell, the smells are definitely not as strong as the other night."

She closed her eyes and took in a slow, short breath of air through her nose. He was right; she could smell the crisp, October air, cool with a slight bit of added warmth, and, under the scent of dying leaves, she could smell the thick, coppery tang of blood. It was not as strong as the other night, nor was the smell of rotting flesh. She knew then that the smells would only cling for an hour, and the taste would remain for about a day.

Relaxation and relief swept through her, and she opened her eyes, determination aglow in them.

"All right, let's begin."

She stood over the bodies, examining the scene just as she had the other night. The reasoning behind the bruises marked down, the placement of the cuts, the amount of blood, angle of the bodies all written down in her notebook. Squatting, she leaned forward, lifting the woman's arm slightly to get a better look at the strange bruising on her flesh.

The pattern was odd, long, rectangular bruises, one after the other with a small space between each one, were wrapped around the woman's arms and ankles. It took her a moment before the realization hit.

"He's changed a bit more. He doesn't use rope anymore."

At her words, Yamato seemed to materialize at her side and was squatting beside her, examining the arm.

"You're right. It is rather odd, isn't it? He used rope on all of the other victims, why not her? And just what did he use this time?"

She closed her eyes as she tried to picture the various items used to tied down and oppress somebody. Rope. Handcuffs. Velvet straps. Leather straps. Chains.

"He used chains." She pointed at the markings with her pen. "See how it breaks off, and see how in other spots, there bruises appear like a hollow rectangle, like the outline of one? It's where the chains shifted or weren't pressed on her skin. He used some pretty big ones, too. Probably chained her arms up behind her back."

Yamato frowned. "But why something stronger than rope? It makes no sense."

"Because it was the only thing he could use."

"I see where you're going at. He probably didn't keep the rope; most likely burned it or something because of the blood all over it, and the fact that we could use it as evidence. So, he didn't have time to get rope, and used chains instead."

They nodded in agreement, noting the information down in their own fashion, before returning to the process of examining the corpses and scene.

A few moments later, a strange gnawing feeling made its way through Mimi's mind, tugging at her, causing her to glance towards Yamato with a frown.

"There's something not right with this."

"I agree with you on that one. This took some serious savage, cold-bloodedness to perform this act. I'm surprised you haven't thrown up yet."

She walked over to him, careful not to step on any of the bodies.

"No, Lieutenant, what I mean to say is that, the scene itself. There's something odd."

Frowning, Yamato looked over the scene, his blue eyes scrutinizing every little thing. The bodies, the injuries, the blood…

The gnawing feeling slowly filled his mind, and his brows arched slightly, his lips curling into a frown. Crossing his arms, he let the doubt fill him, drawing his attention and focus to the crime scene, focusing on every little detail, thinking of every little bit of information he possessed about the scene.

The bodies were cut up, skin destroyed from wounds caused by a sharp blade, the visible skin growing grey with death, the limbs taut, stuck with rigor mortis in the last position they were in.

He stepped in a small puddle of blood, and, upon hearing the splash, he looked down. The red fluid was dark, yet, not nearly as black as a deep, large pool of the crimson liquid. It was small, very little on the ground, having dripped from the discarded corpses.

Squatting down, he looked at the miniature puddle, and the gnawing sensation increased. His eyes surveyed the scene, and then widened in realization.

"The blood."

Her head spun in his direction and his eyes couldn't help but focus as her hair swung away from her face, the pale skin soft, eyes widening like a doe's, bright and surrounded by thick lashes as she gazed as him, waiting for his answer.

Briefly, very briefly, he forgot about the crime scene, he forgot about the smell of death stinking the air, and forgot about the horrid bodies. Instead, he focused purely on her face, her body slightly turned, her breasts rising and falling against the crimson blouse with each breath, her legs long and tempting in the small, black skirt, pale without stockings. He wanted to run his fingers through her long hair, feel the silky smooth locks around his fingers, and grasp it as he kissed her in passion.

"Lieutenant?"

Her voice was soft, tender and melodic, so musical and caring, so incredibly tempting to listen to. He could listen to her speak for days on end. But, it was her voice that lulled him out of his trance.

Standing, he double-checked to ensure that his recorder was on before turning to face her. "The blood." He gestured to the ground. "There isn't enough of it here. This isn't the scene of the crime."

This sudden realization seemed to hit them in unison, as soon as the words left his mouth. They eyes met, the same thoughts going through their minds, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fear threading through their veins. Their hearts beat in unison, a strong patter against their ribs, their breath slowly coming out in quicker gasps, the barely visible, white puffs of air being exhaled in a quickening pace.

Where was the crime scene?

* * *

They had spent a good hour or so just thinking of _where_ the scene could have been, and then spent the good portion of another hour searching through the possible locations, trying to find it as quickly as possible before all evidence was removed.

Mimi walked through Dungeon, looking in random rooms with Ken, searching quietly for any signs of disturbance or death in the rooms. The manager followed them the entire time, wringing his hands in anticipated fear, anxiety aglow in his green eyes.

"So, uh, any sign of a, well, scene?"

"Honda-san, would you please calm down?" Ken turned around, his voice soft and comforting, but his eyes hard with determination. "It is actually quite difficult to search for a scene with you trailing us the entire time."

Mimi passed a staircase and paused, turning around just as the manager began to walk away.

"Honda-san, would it be all right if we went downstairs?"

Frowning, the manager turned back around, facing the therapist with anxiety. "Uh, well, I guess so … I thought that there were also a couple more people down there already?"

That was true; Taichi and Miyako were already downstairs, searching through the rooms in the basement. But Mimi knew that there were a lot of rooms down there, and having only two people go down and searching would take a long time. It was still taking them a while going through all of the rooms upstairs with five detectives.

Ken came over to Mimi, tugging on her arm. "Let's go on down. All we can do is help them, and if we find nothing, then we know that the basement is clean."

"Sounds good to me."

They left the manager wringing his hands, standing at the top of the staircase. The wooden stairs were painting like cobblestone steps, the walls grey with electronic wall sconces lit. She knew that it was made to look like one was actually going down into the dungeons of an ancient, British castle. However, there were differences; the air was warm and comfortable, not dank and cool, and the atmosphere was more relaxing and tense, their footsteps barely echoing; the walls were simple wood.

It was all for show, and nowhere near real.

The basement was furnished like a medieval lounge room, long divans, colourful seats and chairs on a red embroidered, cream carpet that covered the area. The wooden floor was painting grey, and such a type of wood that the sound of their shoes on it reminded her of shoes on stones. She figured that the wood was thin, and placed right over thick, concrete floors in order to enhance the echoing sound of their feet.

Staring around the room, she noted the stone bar in the corner, surrounded by mahogany stools, various bottles lining the wall in back of the bar. Moving along the floor, she listened to the constant click of her heels on the surface, glancing around at the various couches, eyeing the tables covered in purple cloth, before glancing towards the two hallways on the far end of the room.

Nodding to the left hallway, she went forward, listening to Ken's movements as he made his way to the right hallway. Walking down the hall, the noted the rooms she passed, arching a brow at the glass walls, giving one a clear view of the interior of the rooms.

They were furnished like torture rooms, a long, metal slab for a bed, chains and clasps glinting in the faint light, dangling off of the four corners. Chains hung from the ceiling, sticking out of the floor, all of them polished and clean, glittering brightly. Her eyes fell on a rack filled with an assortment of objects, ranging from the simple whip to various other instruments, knives, paddles, and other 'torture' instruments.

Shivering with a mixture of anticipation and cold, her eyes fell on the small cabinet in the corner of the room, knowing fully well what lay in that box; other instruments, far more sexual, and erotic, always cleaned after every turn in the room.

Smiling softly to herself, she couldn't help but sigh softly. She knew that they were always cleaned, but she was quite hygienic; she always brought her own.

Besides, hers were better.

As she continued to walk and examine the rooms, she heard Ken and Taichi meet up, discussing potential ideas of other places to search; it seemed that this place was not the murder scene.

A loud cry filled the air, and she broke out into an instinctive run, heading straight towards the call. Although most would run away from the call, she felt the urge to run towards it; somebody could be in trouble.

Her heart pounding against her ribs, breath coming out in faint gasps, she rushed quickly towards the end of the hallway, coming to a stop as she saw Miyako come out of a room, white as a pale cloud in the sky.

Gasping softly for air, Mimi walked towards her just as Ken and Taichi came around the corner.

"I…Inoue-san…What … what's the matter?"

"I found our crime scene."

They did not step foot into the room until Yamato showed up; the blond Lieutenant had gone off to another club to investigate their rooms with a few other police. As he arrived, Mimi could tell that he was relieved; the tension had disappeared from his body, he was more relaxed and at ease. However, that did not remove the hardened tension and apprehension from his eyes. He was obviously not looking forward to examining another crime scene within such a short time period.

"All right guys, let's get this done and over with. Ken-san, got the camera ready?"

"Hai. I got everything while we were waiting for you."

"All right, good. Let's get the gloves and shit on and get going. I want this done efficiently, quickly, but carefully. I have alerted the manager, and he has called the owner of the place; the owner will be here shortly. Taichi, you're in charge of informing and questioning the owner. Understood?" The brunet nodded. "So when he shows up, we will be notified by an officer, and you will go straight upstairs to talk with him. I don't want anybody down here."

"Understood."

"Let's go."

She followed them into the room, hands covered in latex gloves, pen poised above the paper, watching as they immediately began looking over the area.

She paused in her steps, examining the entire area, scrutinizing every little thing in the room, trying to get a feeling of the room without becoming overcome with waves of nausea, or constant flickers of anxiety at the sight of blood.

The slab of a bed was covered in a dried, burgundy substance, small pools of it sticky and paste-like on the floor around the 'bed'. The wall behind the bed was covered in obvious sprays of blood, the substance having dribbled down the wall until it had dried into place.

The rack was hanging slightly crooked, several items askew across the floor, most of which were the more violent of instruments, a knife, heavy chains, and a barbed whip. The cabinet was opened, various sexual toys laying on the ground, dildos, vibrators, and plugs, some disturbingly dirty, others clean and simply lying there.

Stepping around the bed, she noted to herself the placement of the blood, making a note down on the paper that the location of most of the blood was at the head, and halfway down the bed. She knew that if she lay on the bed, the blood would be by her throat, and by her pelvis.

Jotting this down, she made a note to examine the bodies for sexual abuse, and to figure out just what kind had occurred. She knew ahead of time that the killer would abuse them; it was one of his signature 'moves,' but it didn't hurt to hope that maybe, just one time, he did not rape them.

Moving away from the bed, watching as Ken set up the camera and began taking pictures, she slowly turned away, heading towards the cabinet.

Squatting down, she noted each object lying on the ground, mentioning which ones were dirty and which were clean. She did not pick them up, but looked them over carefully, looking for signs of blood or other bodily fluid.

Sighing softly, she found herself a list of five or so objects with fluid, two or them with blood on them, a third with potential blood smeared on the 'handle'.

Moving over to the array of instruments on and around the rack, she stayed back as Yamato analyzed each item, holding them carefully as he placed them on a newspaper on the ground, lying them down one by one. Squatting opposite to Yamato, she leaned forward slightly, quietly examining each object, looking for something in common with those Yamato placed as 'evidence'.

Some had blood on them, a few with small traces, and others, like the knife, with numerous patches of the dark substance caked onto the silver blade. Her eyes wandered to the handle, and she fought back the sudden waves of excitement. The killer had gotten this far with his crimes; he wouldn't be dumb enough to leave prints on an obvious murder weapon.

Sighing softly, she began to jot down further notes on the paper. The chains were stronger, far more binding than rope, which can be easily broken. He _needed_ to tie this woman down, to make sure that she knew her place in his world. She would be below him, chained down to any surface that put her down, under him, and she would have to stay that way.

He enjoyed it when she struggled, watching, waiting for the bruises to show, waiting for his moment to strike her.

The ball gag served him well; he could easily cover her screams, blocking them by shoving the red ball into her mouth, almost forcing her to choke on it. He wanted her to know that she wasn't allowed to talk; she would never be allowed to say no. Never again.

The whip had probably been used on her back; the ancient method of punishment, and had probably served as a form of punishment to let her know just how little she was to him. Whips had normally been used on slaves, particularly those who had attempted to defy their masters, and it was a cruel method of punishment, and, yet, and effective one.

The whip established her place in his society.

She was his slave.

Yamato glanced up briefly, watching as Mimi jotted down wave after wave of notes, scribbling furiously on her paper, all the while, silent in her reveries. He knew that she had come to a sudden breakthrough, and he knew that even a single spoken word to her would break her out of her thoughts and destroy the analytical process.

Instead, he just watched as an array of emotions flittered across her face, watching as her eyes narrowed, brows arched, and lips pursed ever so slightly. Her pink tongue darted out, quickly moistening her lips, and he couldn't help but be lulled into the world of his imagination and fantasies.

Still going through the objects on the ground, he glanced up again at her, and suppressed a groan. In her position, he could just see up her skirt.

The flash of violet lace against the pale tone of her thighs sent ripples of anticipation and excitement coursing through his veins. It was rather an erotic sight; the image of a woman's most hidden treasure. He couldn't help but wonder just how beautiful her 'flower' – his romantic side liked to call it a flower – would be, moist and glistening in the light, warm and waiting for him to touch it, taste it, and take it.

He was unable to determine whether she was shaven or not, and before he could establish such an answer, his gaze was forced away as her eyes looked up. He felt her eyes watching him, scrutinizing every object he placed on the newspaper, and he knew that she was clueless to her exposure.

Just by thinking about it, he felt his body tighten with anticipation. It wanted her, so bad that it was willing to consume him and take her, right then and there, in the middle of a crime scene. It didn't care if the scene was contaminated, it just wanted to take her and make her 'his'.

Grateful for his current position, he knew that she would be unable to catch a glimpse at his pride and glory, the erection pressing against his pants, begging to get out. However, he knew that getting up would most probably pose a problem.

"I'm out."

Thank Kami Taichi could talk; his voice distracted Mimi just long enough for Yamato to be able to tuck his friend away, hiding it from her prying eyes.

Glancing up, he looked over to Taichi.

"The owner's here?"

"Yep, and, from the sounds of things, he isn't too pleased; his manager seemed to neglect telling him that two more people going here had been killed." The brunet shrugged, letting out a quiet sigh. "Well, what can you do? My stuff is on the newspaper over there, I didn't get to sift through everything, but I managed to get enough done. Miyako-chan said that she's going to finish it for me." Taichi gestured to a small pile of clothes near the door, half of which were spread out and ready for photographing.

"Sounds good to me. Take your time; make sure you let him know that we will have to close this area down for a while. Maybe even the whole basement."

"He won't be happy. Most of his paying clients go down here."

"Yeah, I know that, but it might be necessary to ensure that we get a thorough investigation and find all the necessary evidence. We need to, at the very least, lock down this room to preserve as much as the original scene as possible. However, if it comes down to it, the owner will just have to deal with fewer clients for the next couple of days."

Mimi slowly stood up, obviously lulled away from her information on the paper, and she arched a brow at Taichi. "So…you're saying that this guy will care more about making money than the lives of his clients?" The brunet nodded.

Her eyes widened with awe and Yamato noticed her visible jerk. "You're … you're kidding me. What a self-centered, arrogant, and selfish man." Her lips curled into a furious grimace. "Let me talk to him."

"Tachikawa-san, you know I would let you, but you're not a cop. It's not professional to let a 'citizen' do what a cop is expected to do." He shrugged apologetically. "I would let you yell at him; it would be quite interesting, and make my life much easier, but I just can't. Sorry."

He turned and left the room before another word could be spoken by any of them. Miyako sighed heavily, turning back to examining and writing down the position of the blood on the walls and bed, possibly jotting down the same notes Mimi had made earlier.

Mimi wouldn't mention it to Miyako; the woman was doing her job, and so was Mimi; they would be able to discuss the details later on, when they were back at the precinct, and able to discuss freely about the case and any suggestions.

Instead, she turned back to the toys, moistening her lips, and continued to examine the objects.

They were no longer toys.

These had not been fun to play with.

* * *

"What would you like, sir?"

Blue eyes perused the menu before them, before slowly turning back to the waitress standing by the table, short skirt showing off long legs, red-dyed hair curled and constantly toyed with by a long, finger, the almost disturbingly long nail constantly getting caught in a loose strand.

"Let's see … I'll get the nachos side order, with sour cream, and for the main course I'll have the burger with the blue cheese. All dressed. And I'll have a Coke to drink, please, thanks."

"And you, sir?"

"Hmmm… let me see …" Brown brows furrowed as matching eyes narrowed their vision at the menu. "I'll have the nachos, too, and, well, for the main course I'll have a club sandwich. Extra mayo. And I'll have the same drink as him, please."

Feminine hands gathered the menu, and heels clicked on the floor as the woman's body moved away from the duo.

Blue met brown, and both showed the pain, exhaustion, and anxiety both hearts shared.

A faintly tanned hand ran through blond hair, and a sigh escaped the man's lips.

"Kami, this day has just been going back and forth, hasn't it?"

Brown eyes rolled up, almost as though in a prayer, and the second man fiddled with a fork. "For sure. It's just been a long day. The past four weeks have been really long, actually, when you come to think of it."

"True, true."

"So, Tai, any thoughts about the case so far?"

There was a snort from the brunet, and his eyes rolled heavenwards again.

"You sound like a bad reporter, Matt." There was a laugh. "Of course I have thoughts about the case, what cop doesn't? I want to know why this is happening. I want to know why these people are being targeted. Why are they being butchered this way? Why do they all look alike? And what's with the sudden change of the male? For a while all of them looked similar, and now this guy! It's just … not consistent. It's too … weird."

Yamato leaned forward, placing his face in his hands. "You know that I completely agree with you about that. It is far too strange; we have no leads, nothing seems to make sense."

They paused as the waitress brought them their orders, and did not speak until they were sure she was out of earshot. The men were located in a local, Americanize restaurant, constructed mainly for tourists who feared tasting the Japanese cuisine, and for the locals who wanted to try American food. Usually it was rather busy, but the duo had gotten lucky and managed to find a table during the low hours, away from most of the crowd.

"It's just … strange. We've never been up against someone who was so bent on performing such acts. The only thing we have is this pattern, which tells us next to nothing. We have three guards to question, but that could mean absolutely nothing when it comes down to it." Yamato took a bite of the nachos, savouring the faint spicy tang mixed with the cool sour cream. "He could be just doing it like that so we deviate away from him; he might _want_ us to focus on the guards, to think that they did it, all the while he feels secure because he knows that we're looking in the wrong direction."

"Good point." Taichi gestured towards Yamato with a nacho, nearly slinging an olive in the blond's direction. "Of course, maybe he wants us to look away from the guards, maybe he wants us to think that, and he feels secure because he knows we're looking in the other way. Kami-sama, this is frustrating."

"So, why don't we discuss something else?"

Frowning as he chewed, Taichi looked down at his plate, trying to think of something that might succeed in distracting his superior from the case at hand. Whiskey eyes filled his mind, and he couldn't help but grin as he thought of her.

"Why don't we talk about Tachikawa-san?"

"What about her?"

He almost jerked back at the rough tone of Yamato's voice; it had lowered and gotten a sharp edge to it, almost as though it pained him to talk about the lovely brunette. Taichi knew, however, that the pain was not horrendous or emotional, but the deep-seated physical pain brought about by the incessant desiring of somebody a person could not have.

His grin slowly returned, sly and mischievous. "Well, I figured we could talk about something else. How about we talk about her? Not really her in general, but her capabilities. Like, how useful she's been to us, what kind of therapist she is, and et cetera. You know, the basics."

Leaning back in his chair, Yamato sighed heavily, picking a jalapeno off of the chip and savouring the spicy tang of the vegetable. After a sip of water, he replied, "She's quite talented in her field; she understand what's going on, and can quickly deduce things. She has a very strong mind, too; she tries not to let things get to her, bother her and distract her from her work."

"Very true." Taichi mimicked Yamato's movement, relaxing in the chair after a long, hard day at work. "She picks up on details very easily. I think that she would make a good cop. Very good at search-work." He pointed to his brain, then. "And she has a real quick mind."

The blond nodded, and they continued the light, amicable conversation about the therapist for a few more minutes, completing the nachos, and thanking the waitress as she arrived with their main meals.

As Yamato looked under the bun, that's when Taichi mentioned one of the few things that causes his body to visibly jerk, and his groin to tighten with a sudden onslaught of desire.

"She's real pretty, isn't she? Tachikawa, I mean. She works out a lot with Sora, and man, I remember her from our childhood, and damn has she filled out that body." Taichi laughed then, completely ignoring the instantaneous reaction that Yamato had. He knew exactly what he was doing; annoying the fuck out of his superior to get the man to confess his feelings for the woman. Taichi wasn't stupid, nor was he naïve or ignorant; he knew things; he was educated on how to observe and scrutinize, on how to read emotions and be able to tell when somebody was acting oddly or not. And ever since the Lieutenant had caught sight of the therapist, he knew that something was up.

Yamato tried to focus on anything other than the girl's body, the curves of her shape, the creamy swell of her breasts as they rose and fell with each breath, the …

_Think of something, anything, else!_

"So, uh, you knew her when you guys were kids?"

Taichi stretched his legs, nearly bumping them against Yamato's in the process, and swallowed the bite he had taken of his sandwich. "Yep, although we weren't really friends. We kind of lived in the same apartment complex and went to the same elementary school for a bit, before she moved." He smiled slightly. "She was a gangly thing. I don't think anybody would've thought that she had filled out her body so well. To be honest, I don't think anyone thought she would go somewhere. Rather spoiled as a kid, if you ask me, but, well, I guess she smartened up in high school. She's going somewhere, for sure."

"Yeah, I guess so. I looked up her records. Says she went to the States a few years back for a conference, and, in the end, helped solve a crime out there. She's a very smart woman."

"Yeah, Sora mentioned it to me, but wouldn't develop. I guess something happened to her out in the States that she doesn't want anyone to know about." He laughed. "Probably had an affair with someone. Of course, that's just my guess."

As they ate in amicable silence, Taichi couldn't help but gaze occasionally at his partner, watch the wheels work in the man's eyes as the Lieutenant tried to figure out what had happened. Taichi knew that somewhere, deep down, the Lieutenant actually was beginning to like Mimi, for more than her appearance, and this simple concern demonstrated his point.

"So, you bang her yet?"

A piece of a bun made its way to Taichi's hair.

"Pervert."

**Hola! So, anyways, thanks for all the lovely reviews, I just love getting them. It's taking me less time to write the chapters, but still quite a bit of time in the end. **

**I have the usual excuse of school and work. Typical, eh?**

**Anyways, yes, so I haven't had much time to just sit, relax, and type. **

**And, well, it was taking me forever to figure out Matt and Tai's dialogue for the last section of this chapter. So much difficulty!!**

**Anyway, yes, I promise that I will try and take less and less time writing up each chapter, as I don't like keeping you guys waiting. **

**So please, keep on reviewing (and thanks to all those who have reviewed for the first time last chapter, it pleases me to know that I have such a wonderful variety of, well, fans…? **

**Should I call you guys that? Fans? All right, I will. Fans…but it sounds so…arrogant. **

**Okay, you should all decide what I will call you reviewers, because reviewer sounds so … boring. **

**Anyways, please don't forget the Read & Review & Post rule, thanks a bunch!!**

**You guys are SO sweet! 3**

**Ja ne! (Ciao is just sooo old-school me)**


	8. Suspicion and Friendship

(**I will take a brief amount of space to note that this beginning scene of Chapter 8 was originally intended for Chapter 7, however, since Matt and Tai's guy-convo (which I thought was badly done) took up too much space, I had to move it to Chapter 8, or risk posting too much.)**

**Also, as stated in Chapter 9 (edit date: 30/09/07), I have edited a slight error later in the chapter, thanks to the keen eyes of animegirl. . **

**Chapter 8**

**Suspicion and Friendship**

She sat back in the comfortable chair, quietly looking through her documents, noting down meetings in her Palm Pilot orally, rather thankful for the latest pieces of technology. However, despite the newest automated revolving doors, and oral schedulers, they still hadn't made a way to make days longer.

With everything piling up, she had almost no time on her hands, and felt rather grateful that she hadn't procrastinated when it came to her Halloween outfit. Not that it had taken a long time to make; it had been the materials she used that were costly and most difficult to find this time of year.

Crossing her long legs, reveling the feel of the chocolate brown corduroys against her skin, she leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes as a headache slowly began to edge its way into her focal points.

She was too stressed, she realized with surprise, and she knew just what was causing it.

A lack of food, sleep, and sex, the three essentials most human beings needed to be able to stay sane on this planet. She, however, neglected those three, and felt like she ought to be preparing to go to a therapy session, instead of preparing to conduct one.

Sighing softly, her eyes opened and she leaned forward to look over her scheduler. Wednesday, October 15th, 2014. Iori was scheduled to come in at 1pm that day, so she had about fifteen more minutes before Isuzu buzzed her to let her know that her client had arrived.

Just enough time to munch on some carrots and look over The Case.

That's what she was calling it now, The Case, the piles of information focused solely on the investigation of the BDSM Killer, which is what a lot of the media had taken to calling it.

And they were supposed to be creative.

Standing up, she adjusted her cream turtleneck before making her way over to her purse, inside of which was The Case, hidden with a jumble of other things, including make-up, money, and tampons.

Picking the file out of her purse, she carried it over along with a container of carrots she had discovered. Sitting back down, she quietly looked over the case.

The man was certainly strange, and extremely violent, not somebody she would ever want to meet alone in a dark alley. His mind was a maze of fury and the need to achieve vengeance, consumed by crude, dark, and twisted ideals that seemed to immerse his heart in a black, thick, oily hatred that was injected into his veins with every heartbeat.

He was twisted, sadistic, and, perhaps, slightly masochistic. He had no capacity for sympathy; he most likely killed without an ounce of remorse, and probably went home and masturbated to the images of the corpses, to the sound of their screams, and the feeling of overwhelming power that immersed him as he took their lives.

He was sick, completely and utterly sick, and it made her _feel_ sick.

Putting down a carrot, she paused in her look-over, gazing at the images of the scenes. Most of the time, the bodies had been taken from the original scene and placed elsewhere; just like the last killing, the lack of blood demonstrated this point. However, there was one scene that stood out from the rest.

The last kill in Erotika's.

Taichi had mentioned that his usual M.O. was to set up the scene, bring the victims somewhere more open, more exposed, almost as though he wanted to expose their secrets to the word, while doing the same to their bodies.

But in Erotika's, the killing hadn't been as calculated or cunning, it was angry and vicious, caused by a sudden burst of sheer, absolute rage.

The question was, what had caused it?

The intercom buzzed, jerking her out of her thoughts, and, as she calmed her pounding heart, answered the call from Isuzu, and beckoned Iori into her office.

He entered just as she shoved the file into a drawer and pulled his own out. Her eyes immediately noted that he looked slightly trimmer, but quite pale, and yet, there was a strange, almost calming glow in his eyes, like a temporarily satiated cat.

"Konnichiwa, Iori-san, how are you today?"

As the man sat down, she leaned forward, picked up a pen, and opened his folder. Jotting quickly down the date, and his appearance, even adding in the gray suit, she waited patiently for his answer.

"I guess I feel … I don't know, weird." He frowned. "I sound weird, don't I? I mean, I feel like I'm happy, really happy, and calm, but, at the same time, I feel really … unhappy, and sort of nervous, or excited. It's weird. How can you feel two very opposite emotions at once?"

"I suppose it's like, I don't know, when a spoiled child's mother dies, leaving a big inheritance." She leaned back. "The kid feels sad because their mother is gone, but at the same time, happy because they have all the money. I guess that's the best example I can give you right now."

Iori's sigh was faint, yet quite audible in the silent room, and Mimi got up, needing to move for a minute, to close a window before tugging on a chocolate brown jacket. It had gotten considerably colder out.

"Have you noticed any changes lately? Anything – "

"I had another dream last night."

Intrigued, she sat back down and noted it quickly down. "Really? Care to tell me about it?"

His eyes were darting around, but not so much as before, and the wars in his eyes seemed to have eased up a bit, almost as though a piece treaty between his two minds had been established. There was less tension in his shoulders, but she knew that the knots were still there, still writhing and growing under his flesh as the anxiety in his mind grew.

This man's mind, too, was a maze. A maze of hidden memories, dark dreams, and strange thoughts, some hallways were dark, and others were light, bright and open to the world around him. It almost scared her to think of his mind's composition to be somewhat similar to that of the killer's, but, then again, many people have their dark, secret memories, and everybody suffers from cruel and violent nightmares from time to time.

Even she did.

"It started off the same as last time. It always starts off the same way. But, this time, it was a bit different. I seem some more details; I remember more." He closed his eyes. "I thought that she was bald at first, or that a section of her head had been cut off, but, then, I realized that she had dark hair. It was so dark that I couldn't separate it from the shadows in the room. But her skin, she was very pale, and seemed to almost glow. Strange contrasts.

"Instead of going to her first, I watched. I watched her have sex with somebody else, some … guy. And I felt, I don't know, really … angry. Why was she allowed to have sex with him, but she didn't have sex with me? I was right there, in the room with her, and she was ignoring me.

"The next thing I remember is I went after the guy. I … I made him watch as I hurt the girl. She screamed and begged and … I didn't stop. The guy … he kept asking me to, too … but I didn't. I couldn't." Iori buried his face in his hands, knuckles white as the fingers dug into his forehead, almost as though he yearned to physically tear the memories out of his mind.

But they weren't memories. They were just dreams.

Hopefully.

She waited a few heartbeats, watching as he slowly tried to calm himself, to collect himself and refocus on the current situation. She knew that his mind warred, his Id and Superego, battling for dominance on ways to control the situation and react to her reactions.

Noting down all of the information she had been given so far, she took a sip of water, breathed out softly, and leaned forward.

"Iori? Are you okay? Do you want some water?"

She watched him shake his head, violently, almost like a dog shaking off water after having a bath. It made her feel like he was trying to shake off the memories, trying to throw them away from his body.

"I'm fine, thank you. It just feels so … real."

Smiling softly, concern aglow in her whiskey eyes, she got up and sat in the chair beside him. She knew, sensed that he was in no true distress, or at least not in enough distress to cause her fear that he would harm her. Still, she kept enough distance between them so she could move away quickly.

Moving a chair in front of him, she sat down and leaned slightly forward. "Iori? Do you have anything else you want to tell me about? Any more details from the dream, or anything you feel after the dream? Have the feelings changed? You have to let me know anything you remember, without it, I won't be able to help you."

The man shuddered visibly, and leaned back in his chair. "Nothing much. I still feel so horribly unsatisfied. I wake up and I'm so aroused and my heart is pounding and I can't breathe. When I wake up, I feel like I'm about to … to … have sex, in a way. It's like, in my dreams, I don't feel remotely attracted to her, but, when I wake up, I feel all of the emotions. I just … Kami, I don't know."

"Do you want to talk to me about something else, instead? Why don't we discuss, per say, your sex or social life? How are those?"

"My social life? I guess so, although … I don't see what it has to do with any of this." A flash of various emotions filled his eyes, uncertainty, caution, and a brief glimpse of aroused joy. All three of which sent sirens screaming in her mind. Without betraying a thought, she muted those sirens, and decided to think about them later.

"Yes, your social life. I feel it may help with this. It lets me get to know you even better, lets me understand you, and can let me figure out if, maybe, something in your social life is causing these nightmares. This way, we can find factors we can either eliminate or develop on."

"I have a question."

She leaned back in her seat, comfortable at the intimate distance between them. He had calmed considerably, and there was a naïve perplexity aglow in his eyes, similar to that of a child when seeing a strange, new thing.

"How come you're not doing those inkblot tests? You know, like the therapists in movies and books do? Or how come I'm not lying on that lounge thing over there, and you're badgering me about my past?"

She couldn't help but smile, a small, quick turn of the lips as he finished posing his questions.

"Inkblot tests are usually very inconsistent and inaccurate with diagnosing people; a lot of times, the person could just have an active imagination, and what they see has nothing to do with the disorder they have developed." She reached back to grab her water bottle, taking a quick sip. "Also, I like to use the lounge only for those who feel so terribly distressed that they feel the need to lie down. If you find you're uncomfortable there, please, feel free to tell me, and we can move over to the lounge."

She smiled again.

"And I'm not badgering you about your past because we haven't even gotten through the present yet. If I find that nothing at the present tense is causing these nightmares, I will most likely have to ask you about your past, most likely starting with weird memories, mainly involving family."

His scowl was made known to her, and her smile increased. "I know, most patients don't like telling their past to some unknown doctor, but it's very important to know about all of the details, even those that the patient has tried to suppress over the years."

"All right. All right. So, we're talking about my social life, right?"

"Yes."

* * *

Café Koko's was a quiet little café, slightly Americanized, with added bits of other countries, including French, Italian, and British. However, despite the mix of other countries, it still kept a good amount of Japanese cuisine and dishes on the menu. 

The floors were a mahogany texture, giving off a bright, clean gleam under the lights in the ceiling, nearly reflecting the people upon it, nearly borderline illegal when girls wore skirts. But, it stayed neutral, barely reflecting anything except for the lights on the surface.

The table varied, going from circular ones in the middle of the floor, to small square and rectangular booths along the windows and walls. Soft, white cloths covered the tables, and the utensils gleamed brilliantly in the light.

The café may not have been extremely high on the social ladder for place to eat, but it was a lovely place, decorated subtly to appear somewhat chic, and yet, with an added touch of retro to it.

The two girls sat in a booth by the window, talking over their glasses of iced teas, discussing various things as the waitress came up. She tugged a pad out from the pocket of her slightly puffy, white skirt, and smiled brightly at the two customers.

As they ordered, she jotted down each note, her round face shinning brightly with the prospect of gaining a few more tips to bring home and show off. She had been no older than seventeen, her hair a dyed blonde, falling just to her shoulders in a chic wave, but there was a sense of maturity in her, like she knew more than an average seventeen-year-old would normally know and understand.

Mimi figured that she probably had a baby.

Leaning back in the booth as the waitress walked away, Mimi shut her eyes softly, revealing in the feeling of the soft cushions against her back, listening as Sora told her about her latest patient.

"So, Mimi, got anything exciting to tell me?"

She knew what Sora meant, and that her friend yearned to hear something, anything about the case. She understood that it must have been hard for her friend; Sora's best friend was on the same case her boyfriend worked on, and the poor girl was being left in the dark.

Like any other normal civilian.

Opening her eyes, she smiled softly. "Well, nothing really. I have a new patient. He's a little freaky, but I think I can help him. I can't give out too much details, you know, but, well, I can say a few things."

Sora leaned forward, fiddling with the straw in her glass as she impatiently waited for Mimi to continue.

"He's so … angry. I mean, not just angry in general, but he's really angry with somebody, and he doesn't realize it. He has these dreams, and they're so violent, and they're always the same. He can't remember half the details, but what he does really disturbs me." She took a sip of her tea. "And, to top it off, after having these dreams, he claims he's aroused by them." She couldn't help but shudder. "It's one of the more disturbing things I've ever had to come across."

"Sounds like his story might be an interesting one. I'm guessing you can't tell me about the dreams?"

"To be honest, I would rather not; they disturb me enough as it is. Also, probably by telling you the dreams I'd most likely be giving away some sort of personal information. It's just easier if I try and keep it to the basics, you know?"

"Of course I know." Sora smiled as the waitress arrived with their sushi.

Mimi leaned forward, and began slowly mixing some wasabe with her soya sauce, glancing towards Sora as she did the same.

"So, Meems, got any All Hallows' Eve plans yet?"

"Well, I thought that we would probably just do the usual, you know. Go by Erotika's, say hi to everybody and have fun. It is fetish night there. It's always fun, there, anyways, I mean, Toshiya tends to give us out free drinks, too, since he loves us so much."

Sora giggled with joy at the statement, and ate one of her futomakis. Delighted by the smooth flavours, she swallowed after letting the flavour coat her mouth for a moment. Upon swallowing, she titled her head before answering.

"Well, I suppose going to Erotika's isn't that bad of an idea. Tai and I were planning on going there, anyways, so, you know, it sounds good. I like Erotika's better, anyways, they're music is better."

Mimi laughed, the sound soft and musical, and she smiled. "They do have better music. But, just for the fun of it, how about we go by Cruella's tomorrow night? Sound good to you?"

"Yeah, not bad. Anyways, back to the topic of Halloween. What are you planning on wearing?"

Grinning mischievously, Mimi leaned back in her seat, twitching her finger slightly. "Well, now, Takenouchi, that's a secret now, isn't it? How about you? What are you planning on wearing?"

Sora grinned. "I think you'll find it amusing." Her eyes glowed with humour. "When I saw the outfit, I thought 'Why not'? I bought it right away. Tai doesn't even know I'm wearing it." She leaned forward. "I'm wearing one of those stereotypical, leather Dominatrix outfits."

Laughter burst forth from the ebony-haired girl's lips, and her eyes shut with glee, a few tears of joy trickling past her lids to trail down her rosy cheeks. Sora grinned broadly, watching as her friend laughed continuously for a moment, before suddenly joining her.

"Oh … Oh, Kami-sama! Tai will _love_ it!"

The taller woman continued to grin, mischief aglow in her eyes. "Oh, he'd better like it, or he might be in trouble." She imitated cracking a whip, causing more laughter to burst forth.

"Well, ladies. What do we have here? A couple of lonely, beautiful women, in a café, probably waiting for two lonely, sexy men to come along and entertain them."

"You're probably right, Taichi, but, well, we won't know for sure unless we intrude on their conversation and sit with them, won't we?"

Their eyes darted towards the two voices, Mimi's body instantly reaction to the deep, dark voice of Yamato as her eyes fell on his tall, muscular form. Oh, he certainly did have a delightful voice. Thick, dark, and rich, and she had probably compared it to dark chocolate one time or another.

Although, it wasn't as bitter as some dark chocolates tend to be. It was sweet and sensual.

"Oh! Taichi! My love!" Sora threw herself off of her bench, twining her arms around the Detective's neck, placing hot, wet kisses to his face, throat, and finally, his lips.

Blushing darkly, Mimi glanced away from the public display, turning instead to dip another piece of sushi in soya sauce and eat it with delight. Suddenly, she found herself being shoved aside, and, nearly spilling the soya sauce, she managed to tug her food over as Yamato placed himself beside her on the bench.

"Konnichiwa, Tachikawa-san. How are you today?"

She shrugged, swallowing the piece she had nearly choked on by drinking a good mouthful of her tea. "Pretty good, and you, Ishida-san?"

So she wasn't calling him Lieutenant anymore. In a way, he felt that he had made progress on the friendship levels, and yet, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit saddened; each time the word Lieutenant had been spoken in her soft, melodic voice, it had sent his mind reeling with a variety of feelings, from arousal to sheer bliss.

"Decent enough." He leaned over slightly. "I know that we haven't been able to have a friendly conversation yet, so, you think you're up to having a conversation with me?"

Confusion glittered in her eyes and she moved just the slightest bit back. Her eyes swept over the room, and she noted that Taichi and Sora had disappeared, most likely to have some hot, explicit, and illegal sex in the bathroom. She fought to suppress a sudden grin, and failed miserably.

"What's with the sudden smile?"

It was remotely safe ground, nothing too personal, so she gestured to the empty spot where Taichi and Sora had been moments before.

"The lovebirds disappeared."

"I see. And you're smiling because you think they're having hot sex in the bathroom right now?"

Again, she fought it, and lost; the grin broadened slightly. "Most probably." She blushed faintly. "I can't help it; I find it amusing. I mean, he's a cop for Kami's sake, and she's, well, a physiotherapist, not that being a physiotherapist affects anything."

"Yeah, and she's probably got a hold of his handcuffs, and has him on his knees, begging for sex."

Her body twitched and she nearly visibly shuddered at the image in her mind. No, she wasn't imagining Taichi and Sora performing their 'deeds;' the people in the image had reversed their positions, and she and Yamato had replaced the earlier couple. She could just imagine him, hot and throbbing, waiting patiently for her to ask and beg for him to show her how naughty she'd been.

Fighting back a shiver of anticipation, she swallowed thickly before distracting herself by shoving a piece of sushi in her mouth and down her throat.

"So, Tachikawa-san, I suppose it's odd to ask this, but, it's the way most people start a conversation. What's up?"

Shrugging slightly, she added more wasabe to her soya sauce, mixing it together and using the moment to think of how to reply.

"Well, I suppose the usual answer is 'not much,' but, I guess you could say a lot has been happening. One big thing you know about," she gestured towards him with her chopsticks, "the other stuff concerns mostly work and the time of year."

He frowned slightly. "And what does the time of year have to do with what's new?"

"Well, seeing it's Halloween, and since you know my secret life in Erotika's and so forth, Halloween means figuring out a fetish outfit, making it, and figuring out which place to go to. Obviously, if you'd done your research properly, you would know about it."

"Ah, I see. I guess Halloween would be the perfect night to do some searching."

The conversation was going somewhere she didn't really want it going; she wanted to talk about something else, anything other than the case and her work.

"Try and guess what Sora's dressing up as."

A random question, but it worked, nonetheless, at distracting him from the topic of the case.

His brows furrowed in response, and he scowled slightly as he thought. Her eyes glittered as she watched the emotions flittered across his face, finding it oddly arousing to watch him think and come up with some sort of response.

"A pirate?"

Laughter bubbled forth as she imagined Sora attempting to dress as Jack Sparrow. "Oh, my, heck no. Can you imagine Sora trying to dress up like dirty, scurvy scoundrel? I sure as hell can't. You have two more guesses. Oi!"

A piece of rainbow had mysteriously disappeared from her plate and found itself shoved into Yamato's mouth, the hand that had grabbed it wiping itself on a napkin.

"Mmm, that's good sushi. I didn't know this place made sushi." He swallowed with joy. "Anyway, so, two more guesses, eh? Let me think…"

"You bastard. That was my last piece of rainbow." Her voice had obtained an irritated, whiny tone to it, and he fought back a smile. Finally, progress.

Taichi had told him to try and befriend Mimi, to at least try to get into her friendship circle; the brunet had said that it would make the investigation easier, and probably increases Yamato's chances at dating her. Yes, Taichi had finally come clean and let Yamato know how the blond felt about the girl.

Yamato had fought back, snarling and clawing, but in the end, had to admit it, to himself in particular, that he was growing more than infatuated with the woman. He couldn't get enough of her voice, and constantly wondered if her skin was soft as it looked. He wanted to hold her in his arms, hug her close and feel her breath on his throat. He wanted to kiss her and show her just how beautiful she was, without the usual need of the added stimulators.

For the first time in his life, he was feeling more than sexually attracted to someone, and it frightened him to some degrees. Especially since it was so soon.

Smiling kindly in return, he relaxed in the seat. "So what? You had, what, four pieces already? It doesn't hurt to let me have a piece, especially since I came all this way just to talk."

Suspicion glittered in her whiskey orbs. "So that's why you're here? To just 'talk'? And how did you know we were here in the first place?"

He shrugged. "Taichi always knows where Sora's going to be; she's always calling him, letting him know everything. It's actually kind of hard to believe that she's a Domme. Then again, it is almost like she's ruling his life." He shrugged. "Anyways, let's get back to the task at hand. My finding out what Sora's disguising as for Halloween."

She about to curse him for suddenly changing the topic, but his next response broke through her concentration and caused more laughter to rise in her throat.

"One of those naughty school teacher ladies? You know, the ones who smack people with their rulers and all?"

"Are you borderline stupid or something? My goodness, you really don't know much about Sora, now, do you?"

"Well, considering that I have only spoken to her when Taichi was around, I'd figure no, I don't know her as well as I'd like to, but I do know her pretty well. Okay, last guess, right?"

"Yeah, last one."

"And what happens if I'm wrong?"

"Then you're out of guesses."

"Obviously. Okay, so that's punishment enough, I suppose. Then, what happens if I'm right? What do I get?"

"I'll personally feed you a piece of sushi, your choice of sushi." She gestured to the half-empty plate in front of her.

"And how will you feed it to me?"

"You're choice, I guess. So long as it's not too erotic; we have to do it in public."

"Sounds good."

"What sounds good?"

Sora and Taichi slid into the booth across from them, Sora's hair visibly mussed, Taichi's tie slightly crooked, his shirt hanging out of his pants.

"I'm not sure. I don't think your little session would 'sound good' for us, though." Mimi grinned. "You guys have fun?" She winked.

Sora smiled as she popped a piece of sushi in her mouth, nodding vigorously. Ignoring the fact that her mouth was full, she replied. "Hell yesh."

Giggling, Mimi sipped her tea, waiting patiently for Yamato's answer…

"A Dominatrix?"

…and choked on the beverage.

Coughing and sputtering, pushing away his hands as Yamato patted her on the back, she fought to regain her composure all the while trying to get enough air. "What … what did you … say?"

"I said 'a Dominatrix'." He frowned. "Why?" His frown immediately flipped 180º. "I'm right, aren't I? I'm right."

She couldn't lie, and slowly nodded as she finally managed to breathe normally. "Unfortunately yes."

He couldn't help it, he let out a maniacal laugh of triumph, grinning broadly as she muttered a low curse while Sora and Taichi looked on.

"What's going on?" This came from Taichi.

"Oh, nothing, just a little guessing game. She had me guess what a mutual friend of ours was dressing up as for Halloween. I guessed right and won the game."

Mimi groaned, leaning forward and placing her face in her hands. It was strange; she felt so oddly exasperated, and yet, terribly calm and relaxed by him, as though they had developed a strong friendship a long time ago. It was strange and new to her; never had she felt so at ease with someone she had met a couple weeks ago.

But here she was, groaning and moaning because the man was stealing a piece of her sushi, thinking only about how he might take one of her last preferred pieces.

"Choose whichever one you want," she mumbled, gesturing to the platter before her.

He had to grin, there was no way he could fight it; she was only focusing on one part of their agreement, all the while he focused intently on the other part.

"I've decided on how you're going to feed it to me."

Her head flung up, eyes widening with confusion. "What are you talking about, Ishida-san?"

He grinned and explained, not just for her, but for the other two, as well. "When we made our agreement, you said that if I won, I got a piece of sushi, and you would feed it to me however which way I wanted you to. Which means, that I get to decide how you give me my sushi." His smiled widened. "And I've decided."

She sighed softly, leaning back in her seat while Sora and Taichi looked on with faint confusion, amusement glittering in Taichi's chocolate eyes. The man was certainly aware of something Mimi wasn't, but she wasn't about to figure it out at the moment.

He gestured to a small avocado and cucumber roll. "I want you to feed me _that_ piece, with," he gestured to her lips, "your mouth."

"No fucking way!"

Taichi burst into laughter, roaring with joy at Yamato's announcement. Yamato must have certainly wanted the woman to suggest something so 'creative' as that. Especially in public.

Sora frowned at Taichi's display, curiosity aglow in her eyes as she focused her attention on the therapist and Lieutenant. It was strange, watching them interact like good friends after such a short period of time. Especially for Mimi, the girl had always been along the lines of a recluse, taking weeks on end to just gather enough courage to have a civil conversation with a new friend. To see her suddenly interacting like that with Yamato, a man she had met barely two weeks ago, was odd, and yet, rather calming for Sora. She couldn't help but wonder if it meant something.

"Lieutenant Ishida! How could you suggest such a thing? And in public, to boot! Furthermore, we barely know each other! If this is your way to make some sort of advances, I am not impressed."

Just watching Mimi grow flustered and enraged over the idea caused Yamato's grin to continuously increase in size. It was rather entertaining to watch her blush profusely and slant her eyes towards the ground as she completed her sentences. Something inside of him told him that she secretly wanted to do it, but in the end, she had to appear as though she despised the thought.

Yamato leaned back on the bench, wondering curiously if he should continue this scenario, or just let it drop for the time being? But he yearned to feel her lips brush against his again; that one night, when they danced, this lips had brushed, and he had felt such a strong, electric shock consume his system that he had been unable to shake it off for the past two weeks. He yearned, wanted, no, he _needed_, to feel her lips against his again, feeling as though if they touched once more, the fire burning inside of him might be extinguished.

They had been so soft, so enticing, and he had known that, in that moment in time two weeks ago, she would had yielded to his touch in mere moments. He knew that she, too, had felt the electric pulses through her body, that her blood has instantly boiled at the touch of his lips, and that her mind had been reeling with a sudden burst of ecstasy so powerful it still shook her today.

He couldn't help but wonder if, as she sat there beside him, her panties were soaked at the mere thought of her lips against his.

"Tachikawa-san, can I have my sushi, please?"

Her arms were instantly flung and crossed over her ample chest, and he sighed heavily at the signs of an oncoming, stubborn argument.

"Ishida-san, I'll let you know that I have a reputation to uphold, and it does not consist of me feeding people food with my very mouth! Not only is that horribly unsanitary, but juvenile and rather sexual for a public place."

"Why? Would you feed it to me if you know my medical records? Or would you rather give me some sushi if we were in a room, _alone_?"

A dark blush crept over the woman's cheeks, and she stuffed her hands into her lap, body stiffening immediately beside the blond. Yamato didn't need to be a therapist to know that he had hit some sort of chord on the girl, and that she was most definitely thinking over what he had just said.

Sora fought back several chuckles from across the table, leaning forward slightly to playfully ruffle Mimi's hair. Hiding a smile behind her free hand, she couldn't stop the glitter in her eyes as laughter slowly began to fill her body.

"Mimi, why not just do it? He'll stop irritating you; I have a feeling that he's like Tai." Confusion glimmered in the blushing woman's eyes. "You know, he'll keep persisting until he gets what he wants." She grinned. "In certain areas."

This caused the embarrassed girl to laugh, the blush growing into a pinkish glow of contentment as the victim of the joke attempted to scowl angrily at his lover.

"All right." She turned to face the blond. "Only if you stop bothering me, got it? And nothing too sexual, either, understood?"

"Yes, yes, mother. I understand." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Now, can I have my sushi?"

She grumbled under her breath, cursing herself for being so suddenly open with this strange man; never had she reacted in such a way together a person she had barely met. It was strange, yet, somewhat comforting. She felt this yearning to obtain a stronger connection with this man, and yet, her mind kept telling her that what she was doing would only lead to future difficulties.

'_Well, I only have one life. And it's just a piece of sushi. I bet our lips won't even meet. I suppose it couldn't hurt …'_

She picked up the sushi, dipping it lightly into the soya sauce with his permission, and stuck it between her teeth, holding it gingerly.

Slowly, he leaned forward, smiling down at her, his eyes aglow with mischief and a sudden increase of lust. She felt a strange shudder go through her body and fought it back, fighting not to let it become apparent, and she tried to keep her eyes open, to watch his every movement.

She felt the pressure as his teeth grasped the end of the piece, and nearly let out a sigh; he wasn't touching her. Thank Kami-sama for her luck.

She fought back a loud gasp as electric shockwaves consumed her body as his lips brushed lightly against hers. Trying to swallow thickly, she fought back the sensations as they immersed her body, the swarm of sudden need that filled her veins, making her suddenly drunk with desire.

The lips brushed against, and she felt a tug on the roll in her mouth, nearly moaning aloud as his tongue managed to dart out and stroke her lower lip. Immediately, with her heart pounding and breath coming out in short, silent gasps, her mouth loosened its hold, aching for him to delve his tongue deep in her moist cavern.

Instead, she felt the sushi being tugged from her lips, and felt nothing but air in her mouth. Opening her eyes, not even remembering that she had closed them, she found herself staring into the vibrant, blue oceans of Yamato's eyes, the Lieutenant chewing on the roll, with his attention focused purely on her.

That's when she saw it.

Desire.

And that's when she became afraid.

* * *

_Wednesday, October 29__th__, 2014_

_Guest Pass Valid for 6 hours._

_Guest: Tachikawa Mimi_

She looked down at the small I.D. badge given to her at the main desk. Fiddling with the string holding it around her throat, she listened to the click of her heels, barely audible in the commotion filling the main area. Curses, angry mutters, and cops shouting back and forth filled the air, causing her to become rather intrigued in what was being said.

Instead, she focused purely on making her way down to the hallway and entering the familiar office, the doorplate stating _Lt. Ishida Yamato, Homicide Division._

Stepping into the room, she adjusted her skirt slightly, fidgeting with her blouse, and nodding back at Yamato as he looked up from his desk.

"Take a seat. I'll be just a minute."

She obeyed, and watched silently as he quickly jotted down notes in a paper on his desk, her eyes darting around the room, noting that few had changed. The window was still small, yet nice enough to let in natural light, the walls were still painted a soft, creamy colour, pale in contrast to the blood soaking the cork board on the far wall, facing the door to her right. The desk faced her, the blond man leaning over his work, concentration aglow on his features, making him appear somewhat, more handsome than usual.

She sat on the couch, the very same one she had slept on a few weeks ago, and pulled a notebook out of her purse, flipping through the pages, and glancing through the notes they would be going over.

In mere moments, the room became filled with Detectives Yagami, Ichijouji, and Inoue, as well as the mortician Li, and two others she had not met yet. One of them was rather short, with brown hair cut close to his scalp and matching, brown eyes. He looked faintly pale, like he barely got any sun, and was introduced as Izumi Koushiro, the head of the technology department in the police station. The other man was slightly taller, with short, dark hair, and deep, navy eyes filled with thought and intrigue. This man was introduced as Minamoto Kouji, and he was the head of the CSI: Crime Lab department of the station.

After a brief period of introductions, mainly for Mimi's sake, the group gathered a bunch of chairs, forming a semi-circle in the middle of the office, for once being rather thankful that Yamato's office was larger than most. Once seated, they began the routine of going through the case files one by one, discussing the victims, the wounds, and anything relevant to the crime scenes. Kouji made it clear that, in most of the victims, the only thing in the blood was alcohol, which usually was not enough to cause the victims to become extremely impaired by it. They were still quite sober in death.

Kouji did note, however, that in the last two victims, a certain drug had been found in their system, a substance that was used to shut down the flight or fight system, causing the victim to simply grow limp, and yet feel every ounce of pain inflicted upon their body.

"It would seem that he didn't want them to scream."

"Precisely." Kouji pointed his pen at Mimi as she made her observation. "He injected the drug into their system well before death, and injected quite a large amount, too, for it to still be found in their bodies."

"How are you so sure of that?"

"Because, Yagami-san, the drug is meant to rapidly dissipate in the body; the blood stream sucks it up, and ten hours after the injection of a regular dosage, there are supposed to be few to none traces left in the body."

"So, he either miscalculated or he simply thought the torture would go on for longer." Mimi chewed on her pen cap. "But … that doesn't fit his M.O., right?"

"That's exactly what we're trying to figure out. Why he used it. It's just so strange, and for someone so careful, he left something behind. So far, we have no hairs, no body fluids, no prints, absolutely nothing to link anyone to the murders, and, after all this work, he decides to give these people a drug, and puts so much in the body that it lasts long enough for us to find traces in it. It's just strange."

"Is it possible that he may have thought it would have taken us longer to find the bodies?"

"Inoue-san, you know that what you just said makes no sense." Yamato leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs. "This guy wants the bodies to be found. He wants the press to write about it. He wants to know that he's causing some sort of havoc. Right, Tachikawa-san?"

"_Hai_. Right. It would seem that, in placing the bodies in a very open, public area, he's telling the world that he wants them to be found. He wants to make others fear, he wants them to have nightmares." She chewed harder on the cap. "It's almost like … maybe he has his own nightmares, and that he wants to share them with the world."

Ken nodded slowly, but pointed at her with his pencil. "_Demo_, it could also be a sign, some sort of warning." The group looked on in confusion, and he developed. "All of the victims have similar traits, all of them are connected through the same community, and all of them are killed in the same manner. They are displayed in the open, exposed to the world, but their faces are untouched, almost like he wants the world to see their faces. Yes, maybe he wants the world to be tormented by the images of their bodies. But, at the same time, he could also be trying to warn somebody. Someone pissed him off, and he wants them dead, and he's using the victims as a way to show the person just how he's going to kill them."

"Sounds like fun. So, just who is this guy after, exactly?"

"My question exactly, Inoue-san. A lot of the female victims have similar, and very common, traits. Black or brown hair, most of them have brown eyes, they're all about average height, with paler skin tones, ranging from pale to lightly tanned." This time, Li gestured to the files on his lap. "They're all alike, and they all have common characteristics. It would be very hard for us to determine just exactly who he's after. Too many people share those traits."

"Great." Sarcasm laced through Taichi's voice as he cursed softly. "What a fucking blast. So, what, do we send out a warning to all dark-haired, brown-eyes, pale girls in the Bondage Community that their lives are in danger? There are so many women like that in the community it's not even funny. So, where the hell do we start?"

"Well," Koushiro finally spoke up. "We'll want to start with the simplest people, right? Club owners, and guards for the clubs, obviously, and see if there are any links between them, or maybe that they work or own two or more of the places." He pulled on a small pair of thinly rimmed glasses, newly bought. "I managed to sneak into their database without them knowing and pulled up all information about the owners, guards, and staff, and look what I found." He handed out a list to each person in the room. "Dungeon, Cruella, and Erotika rotate guards to help save costs. Why? Because all three places have the same owner."

"Kido Jyou." Mimi read the name in a whisper, her eyes falling on all of the others in the room. "So, is he on or off the suspect list?"

"So far, I've marked him as off. He has too much to lose with these murders; eventually, a lot of clients will lose the thrill of the possible threat, and eventually just start leaving the clubs. He will lose a lot of income. It makes no sense for him to be committing these murders." Miyako glanced around the room.

"So, any other thoughts?" Koushiro asked.

Mimi glanced through the list quietly, before listing her head. "I think we finally have a few suspects."

**So, how'd you guys like it? A bit longer than the others, eh? Meh, whatever, I don't care. The majority of this chapter is composed of the scene at the Café, but I didn't want it all to be about the Café scene, so I felt the need to add the small police-station scene at the end.**

**PLEASE REMEMBER MY RULE AND I ENCOURAGE YOU TO GIVE ME ANY CRITICISM YOU HAVE! Please, I do love getting reviews where you guys say "I love your story! Etc." BUT! I also love hearing ways I could improve the storyline, or hear ideas from you guys. I appreciate every single one of your reviews, I really do, and I thank you all for your kind words.**

**I'll be sure to post the next chapter as soon as I can.**

**Ja ne!**


	9. Questions

**Author Note: Edit (30/09/07): Thanks to animegirl who pointed out my newly corrected errors. . Thanks a bunch, I appreciate it! There are errors that are corrected in this chapter, as well as the previous!  
**

**Chapter 9**

**Questions**

Curses were loudly exhaled as the group of four entered the club; they were supposed to have finished work an hour ago, but a new development had caused them much discomfort, annoyance, and an increase in the need to find information.

Yamato flashed his I.D. at the bouncer, quickly, efficiently, keeping it open just long enough for the man to see his Lieutenant badge, and curse to himself. All the while, he thought about what Mimi had pointed out just hours before, during their meeting.

They finally had a lead, some sort of suspect. Or, well, he supposed that he should have been thinking _suspects_. Plural.

They finally had three suspects, and were going to try and get as much information from them as possible, even if it meant getting close to police brutality.

Miyako turned to the Lieutenant as they followed a security guard down a long hallway, patiently waiting for speak until they were ushered into a quiet, enclosed room at the end of the hall. There, they sat, and she spoke up.

"So, from what I understand, there were three guards at work, on all of the nights of the murders, at the same club. Right?"

"Yes," Yamato sighed. "It's a rather simple explanation, actually. I'm quite surprised that Koushiro-san didn't notice them."

"Well, there were a lot of dates on the list." Taichi earned a kick from Miyako from his statement.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe that you are a Detective, let alone a police officer." She then turned to Ken. "Ken-kun, do you under how it works out, because I'm still quite lost. At least, to a certain extent."

The brunet leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes softly as he fought back a small headache forming at the back of his skull. "Sure. I don't have anything better to do." He then leaned forward, his eyes opening and taking on a serious tone. "You see, when Jyou created all three clubs, he came up with the idea that, instead of hiring individuals security for each club, it would be easier to rotate the guards. It was slightly cheaper, and a lot easier to pay them, since they were all, in the end, being paid by Kido Club Company, instead of Erotika's, Dungeon's, and Cruella's.

"Now, the rotation was simple. Every Sunday, the guards would be sent to a different club to work at for one week. That way, they became integrated into each club, got to know all of the clientele, and learned about the atmosphere and surroundings. In the end, the guards would keep up a pattern, for example, the three we have started in Erotika's, and from there they went to Dungeon's, and finally Cruella's. Every third week, they repeat the list, going from Cruella's to Erotika's, and then to Dungeon's, and so forth."

"But, why three guards? I guess it's probably just coincidence, eh?"

"Yeah, most likely. They were probably just hired at about the same time. But, it's also a lot easier to do your job if you're with familiar people, so it could be because they just worked well together."

"True, true."

Yamato listened to the silence that followed, glancing around the room, noting the dark green walls, and the matching, lush carpet covering the floor. The couches in the room were not cheap, but made of dark, navy leather, comfortable, soft, and relaxing. The chairs were made of the same leather of the same colour, while the coffee table was cream, and covered in a glass top, one of the brightest objects in the room aside from the cream lamps, and metallic lights hanging from the ceiling. He noted the paintings on the wall, a stark contrast of black and white, abstract images. Probably close ups of petals, leaves, and water droplets.

Leaning back on the couch, he flung his arm over the back, closing his eyes. It was roughly eight o'clock at night, and he had had a long day, which wasn't even over yet. Furthermore, he had had a rather restless sleep, most definitely caused by his sushi experience the previous afternoon.

The faintest feel of her lips against his had sent his mind reeling with need, and had nearly caused every single, thick chain of resistance to snap. He had fought long and hard to keep that resistance up and fight the desire that had nearly swallowed his body.

A result of that was the restlessness of the night before, and a mere four to five hours of sleep that night before he had to be up at about 7 in the morning.

So, he concluded, his sleep last night sucked.

Especially since, when he had been unable to sleep, he had turned on the television to find hardcore, bondage porn playing on the television.

He hadn't been able to help himself; he had watched the 'movie', and had immersed himself in the film. His release had felt almost sub-par that night; after the feel of her lips on his, and the sensation of her body shuddering as his tongue brushed her lip, nothing would ever feel as good as it had beforehand. That, he knew, was a growing fact.

Sighing softly, he tried to fight back all tension in his body, to will himself to relax even for a short period of five minutes. But he was unable to do so; the sexual tension building in him only increased, and, as soon as he felt the slightest inkling that he was relaxing, the door opened.

"_Konban wa_, officers. I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long; you caught be in the middle of a meeting."

Kido Jyou was tall, maybe near six foot, and lean. His face was pale and chiseled; the softness of his skin added a slight femininity to his handsome features. His dark hair fell just past his ears in straight, smooth locks that screamed out expensive products. His eyes were navy, calculating, yet filled with intellect and charm. They told stories of how he understood and knew things most didn't know at his age. His lean body fit comfortably in a pair of long, black slacks, and a simple, dark silk shirt.

One could say that he looked like a slightly older, almost more charming, version of Ken. Except, he had a pair of metal-rimmed glasses, the wires thin, resting on his long nose.

Yamato stood up, as well as the others, and made his way straight to the owner. Grasping the man's hand in a comfortable grip, they shook hands as he greeted him. "It's no problem. We only got here a few minutes ago, anyways. I don't like dropping in too unannounced, I like to give people a couple minutes to finish what they were doing so they don't feel rushed."

Jyou smiled at the blond, who was just slightly taller than him, and nodded. "Thank you, I appreciate your kindness." He glanced at the others. "Now, let's begin the introductions, and I'll take you all to my office where we can discuss your reasons for being here."

The instructions were quickly made, and the group of officers followed Jyou to his office. Although it was usually mandatory for only one or two officers to be at the scene of an interview, they were planning on interviewing all three guards at the same time, just to lessen the amount of time spent on the interviews.

The door shut behind them with a loud click, and the group surveyed the room. A large, gleaming mahogany desk stood on the far end of the room, facing the door, standing in front of a small set of windows, giving the owner a lovely view of the water. The carpet on the floor was a thick, black, and the walls were painted a vibrant scarlet. Bookshelves lined the far right wall, filled from top to bottom in a variety of books, ranging from Law to fiction novels. On the other walls, multiple screens covered it, each flashing a colour picture of a different area of the club.

Silently, the group each sat in a black leather chair before the desk, waiting calmly as Jyou made his way around the desk to sit in his bright, leather chair.

"Well, how can I be of your service?" He leaned forward, adjusting his glasses slightly. "I'm guessing that you're here because of the murders at my clubs?"

Yamato nodded. "Yes, we are. Now, just to quickly clarify, we are unable to disclose any information at the moment." Jyou returned Yamato's gesture calmly. "Good. Now, to get straight to the point, you had three guards on location at all of the murders, present at the exact times the murders took place."

Slowly, the brunet nodded. "Well, I always like to have he same guards together; after I make they work well together, and they always go to the same places in the same order." He smiled slightly. "It just makes things a lot easier on myself and them."

"And all of your clubs are closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, correct?"

"Yes, it's just a lot simpler than having to move around the guards and so forth. Besides, it gives my staff a couple nights to just rest and relax for a while, you know, have some time to themselves." He readjusted his glasses. "Besides, those were the slow days of the week."

"I see." Yamato glanced at his paper. "Were you aware that the same guards were on duty at the exact same place of the murders, on the exact same nights? And if so, did you just believe it to be a coincidence?"

"I understand that, in most cases, my lawyer would tell me not to answer these questions, as they make me sound like a suspect. But, I must question as to whether or not this will be recorded?"

Yamato glanced towards Miyako, who had suddenly blushed a vibrant crimson. "I'm very sorry, I forgot to mention it to him immediately." She turned to Jyou. "I have started the recording, and sincerely apologize." She then cleared her throat. "Just to make it clear, anything you say is being recorded as an official interview. Present are Lieutenant Ishida Yamato, Detective Yagami Taichi, Detective Ichijouji Ken, and Detective Inoue Miyako. Lieutenant Ishida will be doing the questioning for this interview." She then leaned forward and placed the recorded on the table, in full sight.

Yamato fought back a sigh as Ken rubbed Miyako's back slightly, making appear nearly invisible.

"Well, now that your question has been answered, would you please answer my questions? Or would you like me to read you your Rights?"

Jyou waved aside, smiling kindly. "I understand what my Rights are, so there's no need to read them. I understand that at some times we can be forgetful, so I do not plan on holding it against you that you forgot about the recording." The last bit was directed towards Miyako, who nodded slowly, the blush quickly receding.

"Now, about those questions you posed." Jyou paused. "To be honest, it had, briefly, crossed my mind that the guards had been on duty at the same locations and same times as the murders, but I also thought that a number of my staff was also present at a number of the murders, perhaps not all. If you wish to question them, I will supply you with a list of the staff."

"Thank you for your cooperation and generosity, Kido-san. I will have Detective Yagami collect them once we have completed the interviews."

"All right." Jyou leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a pen. "Anyways, at the moment in time, I had thought of it as a coincidence, or that, perhaps, the killer had scoped out the clubs, noted who was on duty when, and planned the murders in such a way that the police would be looking in the opposite direction." He smiled. "However, it could be that the killer wanted you to think just that, forcing you, in the end, to look away from the guards. It's all a big mystery, at the moment."

"You're a very smart man, Kido-san. Those were all good points." Yamato leaned back in his chair. "Now, I suppose you were expecting this, but, I must ask. Where were you the nights of the murders?"

"To be honest, Lieutenant, it is quite difficult for me to remember all of those nights. Would you please be able to give me dates, so that I may verify them in my scheduler?"

"Detective Ichijouji." He signaled to Ken.

"Right. We will start with the night of the first murder, Wednesday, September 17th, 2014."

"On that night, I was at a meeting with other club owners in the district. Please feel free to ask them about the meeting, which was held from about 10:00pm until, maybe, midnight. After that, I went by Cruella's to check out the new renovations we had made in the basement, again, feel free to check my alibi by talking with any of the guards on duty at those nights."

"Certainly. Would it be possible for you to tell me the name of, at least, one of the men at the meeting with you on the Wednesday?"

"Yes, of course. Kanbara Takuya, the owner of Whiplash, was also present at the meeting. I do not fully remember all of the names, but his is most prominent because he kept insisting that my clubs and his join together."

"I see." Yamato noted down the name as the Detectives did the same. "Very well. Let's go for the second date."

"Saturday, September 27th, 2014."

Jyou flipped through his scheduler to a week and a half after the first date, noting down the scrawled writing underneath the date. "I was at home, recuperating."

"If it's not too much trouble to ask, but recuperating from what?"

"Oh, you see, that afternoon I'd had the misfortune to suffer through a rather nasty root canal. The appointment was set for 5 in the afternoon, but got changed to 6 pm. The dentist told me to rest for the remainder of the night, and see how I felt the next morning before deciding on whether or not I should go into work. Unfortunately, I did have to go in to introduce new members and was quite shocked to see more police at the doors to one of my clubs."

"All right."

"The third murder took place on Wednesday, October 1st, 2014."

"Oh, well, that's simple. I was at Dungeon's, like I am every Wednesday, going over a checklist for orders with my supplier and my head bartender. We were discussing things for quite some time because it was around 1 am when I got out of the meeting. I did my usual quick security check of the club, before going over the financials in my office, double checking that we had enough money to afford everything on our list of orders."

"Saturday, October 11th, 2014."

And it went on, one night after the next; Jyou was constantly with another person at the time of the deaths. Finally, they completed the rather short, yet lengthy, interview, and were given empty, secure rooms to question the three guards.

Yamato got stuck with Taichi, questioning the tall, built, and aggressive Shibayama Junpei.

The man was quite tall, about a couple inches taller than Yamato, placing him at about 6'3" – 6'4", quite a feat for the Japanese. His hair was short; the light brown locks very short, while his brown eyes held such a calculated aggression that Yamato wondered how this man became a bodyguard. Certainly, he was built to be a guard, and he screamed with confidence, but the aggression consuming his body seemed far too strong for anyone to have.

Junpei's answers were quick and to the point, straightforward and simple, barely detailed, and barely giving out anything for the Detective and Lieutenant to develop on. Slowly, they began to grow increasingly more suspicious of this aggressive, yet not so swift, man. There was just something about him that bothered Yamato.

"So, Shibayama-san, you're saying that you never noticed anything strange, anything different from normal any of those nights? Nobody arguing? Nobody strange skulking around the rooms?"

"Nope. Nothing. Didn't see nothing, didn't hear nothing. All I know is that the music was loud, and that there were a lot of hot girls those nights." He grinned, making Yamato wonder whether the man was trying hard not to drool.

"Very well." Yamato sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "I suppose that, for the time being, you can go. We will contact you if we have anymore questions."

"Thanks."

The beast of a man stood up and moved out of the room, lacking quite an amount of grace in the process, nearly knocking over a chair. The door slammed loudly, the sound reverberating through every object in the room. As the water stopped moving around in their glasses and the giant's footsteps faded down the hallway, Yamato turned to Taichi, a scowl plastered to his face.

"The man's either acting stupid and lying, or he's genuinely dumb."

Taichi rubbed his hands over his face after glancing at his watch. "Ugh, I just can't think right now. It's nine at night, and I'm fucking exhausted. I vote we discuss this shit tomorrow and call it a fucking day." He sighed. "Ugh, night. Whatever. Shit."

Yamato laughed at his friend as they stood up, gathering the recorder and the papers from the interview, heading towards the door.

"Well, at least we have Halloween off."

"Yeah," Taichi grumbled as they exited the room. "But that means that we go in the next with a massive fucking hangover."

"By the way, do you know what Tachikawa-san is dressing up as for Halloween?"

"No clue. But I did give her a suggestion."

"What was it?"

"Go naked. That way you can get straight to the good part."

"You really are a pervert."

"I know."

* * *

She sat, once more, in the comfortable chair in her office, finding herself more and more often located in the same seat, patiently waiting for another person to come through the doors and sob about their horrible sex lives and wonder why certain things were happening.

Her laptop was open, her eyes reading the screen as she scrolled down the page, completely immersed in the text on the screen, focusing on nothing else.

It was a snippet of the first chapter from the final book in a trilogy she'd been reading. The Crimson Trilogy, a paranormal romance about three sisters fighting evil. She couldn't wait to see how the author completed the series.

Sighing softly at the cliffhanger at the end of the snippet, she completely leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as relaxation and exhaustion overwhelmed her body. Lately, it felt like she had to focus on so much, on hiding so many sides of her, that it was slowly eating away at her.

The first life was her normal life; the one was a woman with a prominent job and kind friends. The simple life as the Tachikawa Mimi everybody knew at the first meeting.

Her second life was that as the psychiatrist, a world she was not allowed to share with anyone, even going as far as refusing to share it with those in the institute. When she was a psychiatrist, she had to be colder, more calculating, and couldn't worry about delving deep into the minds of her patients. So long as it was for their benefit.

The third life was her club life, a woman who walked around with no underwear on under small skirts, who begged to go on her knees and do whatever the dominating male asked her to do.

Finally, her newest life, her fourth, was that of the woman helping the police investigate death and pain, following them around and analyzing the data to come up with solutions to attach to the suspect or suspects.

Four lives for one woman, four things that, when added up, caused severe exhaustion, and increased the urge for her to just give up and hide in a hole.

Yet, she remained strong, going into work each morning, talking about her patients, and then headed off to the police station for daily additions to her already large file, and finally home, where, some nights, she would change, and then head off towards the clubs. There she felt free and could escape from whatever tension left behind from the other three lives she lived.

Sighing heavily, she sipped at her water, closing the cap tightly on the bottle before opening up a new page, examining the details about Dissociative Identity Disorder, noting down just which applied to her latest patient, Hida Iori.

Reopening her bottle, sipping at the cool liquid, she compiled a lengthy list of the symptoms he possessed, and another list of the ones she ought to look out for, in case they, too, were unearthed and became apparent.

The man was most certainly exhibiting signs of the multiple personality disorder, the constant blackouts, and incessant psychological wars, and strange shifts in his personality that were made evident in the first meeting. He claimed that some times, when he seemed to refocus on reality, he would find himself covered in dirt, sweat, or feeling extremely drunk, and he couldn't remember a single thing that had happened to let him know just how he had gotten so dirty or drunk.

Instead, he had memory blanks, areas in his past that just didn't click, didn't fit into the rest, little, blank holes in his memory banks that, it seemed, would forever remain blank. At least, to the Iori she currently knew.

The question she had to pose was, just how many other personalities did Iori possess? And were those personalities dangerous to himself and others? If so, to just what extent where they dangerous?

Leaning back in her seat, switching the page on the laptop, she exhaled softly before opening a small container of blueberry yogurt, quietly eating as she examined the next page.

It was filled with death.

She should have found it extremely odd, that she was able to sit there and eat, while looking up detailed files about previous, extreme murders, and be unaffected. Yet, for some reason, she didn't find it so odd. One could say that, maybe, she was becoming like a police officer, growing more immune to scenes of death the more she gazed at the blood red crime scenes.

Scrolling down the page, she searched for some indication that, perhaps, somebody had influenced this killer. She understood that the police had probably already done this particular investigation, but, for some reason, she felt an urge to look up all details and find out just another reason for why the man was doing these murders.

The buzz of her intercom jerked her out of her thoughts, and she nearly spilt the yogurt on her black skirt. Sighing softly, she leaned over the flicked on the intercom.

"_Hai_, Isuzu?"

"Tachikawa-san, I just got a call from a client canceling their appointment today. He said that he wouldn't be able to make it."

"Which client? And what time was his appointment?"

"It was scheduled for 2:30pm, and it was for Hida Iori. He claimed that something came up, and he had to go into work for an emergency meeting."

Frowning slightly, she sucked on the spoon. "And just where did he say he worked?"

"I don't know, to be honest." She heard Isuzu sigh and the ruffles of paper were an indication that she was going through the patient's records. "It doesn't have any occupation listed here. Not one single indication, no insurance, nothing."

"Strange. Most people try their hardest to use insurance to pay for their therapy, saves them some money."

"True."  
"Oh well. If you want, call my last two appointments and try to move them up in my schedule. I'm tired, and it would be great if I could finish at four-thirty instead of six, especially since it's Halloween night."

"All right. Only two, right?"

"Yeah. That way you can leave early, too. Sound good?"

"Perfect."

She turned off the intercom and leaned back in her chair, glancing back and forth between Iori's list and the murders on her screen.

Why would he suddenly cancel like that?

Strange.

* * *

She stood in her bedroom, stark naked, looking at the outfit laid out on her bed. Not that it could have qualified as an outfit, there was barely any cloth there. A small top, small skirt, mid-thigh stockings, and a white, lacy bra were the only things on the scarlet comforter, and she sighed heavily. 

She was stuck in a dilemma, and it was quite a dilemma, actually.

To wear underwear or not to wear underwear.

Gosh, it was such a huge decision. If she wore underwear, then it would take longer for her to undress, but she would be able to sit with her legs slightly open. If she didn't wear underwear, she would have to constantly try to keep her legs closed, but undressing for sex would just make things go quicker. And she would also be able to have a quickie in the bathroom without needing to take off her clothes.

To be able to have sex anywhere she wanted, or to keep some slight bit of decency.

It wasn't the first time that sex won the brief debate.

Shrugging on the tiny, black and red plaid skirt, she let it rest at her hips, swinging around in the tiny skirt, reveling in the feel of the breeze brushing up against her pussy, sighing softly at the small pinpricks of pleasure.

Smiling at her reflection, she quickly adjusted her piercings before pulling on her bra, reveling in the comfortable sensation of the lace against her flesh. Shivering, she moved over to grasp onto the top, tugging the sleeveless short up her arms, and turned to face the mirror. The shirt was open, exposing her lace clad breasts, and she grasped the material, taking the two, long strands and tying them into a knot right between her breasts, making it tight enough to create an ample amount of cleavage.

Oh yes, she was certainly going for the naughty schoolgirl look tonight.

Smiling at her reflection, she picked up one of the mid-thigh high, sheer white stockings, tugging it on over her pale leg, before repeating the process for the other. Then, she stood in front of the mirror, hands on her hips, examining herself.

The short skirt made her legs look like a million miles long, while the small top enhanced the size of her breasts, making her waist look slightly curvier and longer.

Picking up a brush, she ran it through her hair before dividing the black locks in half, tying each half up the sides of her head, giving herself rather long pigtails. Then, after tying them up, she took a curling iron to them, turning them into perfect, long curls that hung from either side of her head.

She felt like one of those sexy anime schoolgirls in a hentai video, ready for some nice, hot sex.

The makeup was next, a lovely combination of soft blush, dark eye shadow, and ruby red lipstick made her appear far sexier than she had before, and the final touch, a pair of 5", black vinyl, open toe shoes, topped it all off.

She looked fucking hot.

Slipping the collar around her throat, she fingered the bare loop, reveling in the feel of the cool metal against her hot flesh. Sighing softly, she spun around a couple times before making her way over to the coat hanging up by her door. A long, black, leather trench coat with flared out sleeves, and a V-neck.

Tugging on the jacket, she called for Sora, announcing that she was ready before flicking off the lights and walking out.

Tonight would be fun.

* * *

He watched her. 

He watched her as she moved through her room, and cursed her for leaving her blinds open and lights on as she changed.

She was such a filthy whore; letting the whole world watch her move, naked, throughout her room.

But she was his whore. He would make sure of it.

He could still smell her, the scent of her shampoo in her long, soft hair, the natural smell of her body as it was riddled with fear and concern. If he could, he would bottle her scent, and then, once he had enough, he would coat every single one of his things with it so that her smell would be with him forever.

The smell of her fear.

He watched her tits bounced in the light as she shifted, and he felt his cock twitch viciously in his pants. Immediately, his hand found the member and, slowly, he began to stroke it through the material.

Oh, how he wanted her. To feel her hot and tight around him, begging for him to stop, screaming every second he beat her and cut her. He wanted to feel her blood on his skin as he took her for the last time.

He wanted to see her beg.

His grip tightened on his dick, and he let out a small groan of pleasure at the image of her, terrified, filled his mind. He needed to take her, to cover that pale skin in blood, to grasp that hair tightly and ram her face against his crotch. He was going to cut her and torture her, and derive all sorts of pleasure from it.

In the end, it wouldn't matter how much she cried; he would never stop. He would make her see that she was his.

She belonged to nobody else.

He would make sure of it.

She had denied him once, told him no, spat right in his face and said that he would never be able to pleasure her. She had called him pathetic, turning him down. She had forced him away, and went straight away to that dark-haired guy in the corner.

He had watched, even then, as they fucked.

Her head thrown back with passion, eyes wide with need and pleasure, her moans reverberating throughout the room as the man used her, taking her hard and fast, treating her like the bitch she was.

It should have been him, goddammit! Nobody else but him!

How dare she deny him? How dare she go straight to somebody else within seconds of the denial? How dare she rub it in her face that he was no good?

He was way better than the other guy, and he was better than the new guy.

That fucking creep, dancing with her, touching her, fucking kissing her in public!

It should be him!

That fucking whore taunted him, tortured him, and flaunted everything she had in his face.

He would show her just what she was. He would make her beg, and show her just how much better he was.

He would make her pay.

* * *

The beat was fast, the rhythm quick, bodies swaying in time with the music, undulating against one another, the sweat flying off and dripping to the ground. Arms swayed in the air, eyes shut as they allowed themselves to become consumed by the beat. Waists twisted and turned, legs moved quickly along the floor, twining around other legs, or even waists, as the rhythm changed pace, quickened or slowed. 

Gasps filled the air, gasps for air, gasps of pleasure, and gasps of contentment. Smiles were plastered to the faces, grins caused by the sheer enjoyment of the music pumping from the sound system.

Her foot tapped to the music as she paid the coat check, handing over her leather jacket before turning towards the crowd.

Tonight was going to be fun.

Arms raised, she moved through the crowd, heading towards the bar, where Sora had said she would wait. The two of them had taken a taxi, and Sora had immediately bolted into the bar, searching for Taichi.

Sora's outfit was rather delightfully sexy in Mimi's eyes, the long, vinyl pants hugged the woman's legs perfectly, the ties in the front exposing the fronts of her thighs and shins, stopping just short of her mid-thighs. The black, vinyl corset boosted the girl's breasts, pushing them to near breaking point, and the laces on the front of the corset sinfully exposed her stomach and more of her breasts.

She had leant Sora a pair of boots, big heels, thick platforms, and a bright, shining black vinyl. In Mimi's eyes, tonight Sora looked like a sex fiend.

She had laughed when the girl had presented the whip, attaching to her belt beside a pair of handcuffs that shone and glimmered bright silver in the light.

Sora had certainly gone all out.

When she arrived at the table, she found Taichi looking quite pleased, and rather half-dressed. The leather pants he wore hugged his long legs, and his chest was completely bare, exposing the six-pack he possessed from being a police officer. The only other thing added to his appearance was the collar, black, leather, with a lock attached to the silver ring.

Making her way over, she grinned delightfully as Taichi's jaw dropped. Twirling around, she made sure that he wouldn't be able to see up her skirt, and she giggled loudly.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Taichi-san, I just had to come with at least _some_ clothes on." She winked.

"Oh sweet Kami-sama, you know that the guys are going to go wild, don't you?"

Mimi and Sora laughed in unison, both leaning forward on the bar and ordering their drinks.

"I'll be fine. Nothing can happen to me. I mean, look at everybody. Everyone's in costume!"

She gestured to the dance floor where people of all kinds danced and laughed, their outfits ranging from the sensual to the simple, from naughty French Maids and sexy pirates, to the simple Playboy Bunny outfit and the straightforward sexy vampire look. She could tell the drag queens from the rest, with their bright colours of purple and red, their bright and cheerful laughter filling the air.

She loved drag queens.

Grasping onto the glass, she took her first sip of the Midori she'd order, swung back around, and nearly choked.

"Ah!" Taichi exclaimed, standing up. "I see Yamato made it."

Trying her hardest to swallow the beverage with Sora tapping on her back, Mimi couldn't drag her eyes away from the sight before her.

His long legs were encased in dark leather, practically exposing them in the process, outlining the muscle, the long, lean features of them. His top looked like a simple dark shirt, but she noted the badge on the corner of the left breasts, or the fact that the shirt was a button down. The top buttons were undone, giving her a glimpse of his faintly tanned chest as the light hit in certain ways.

His hair was worn like usual, longish, blond, and covered in one of the Americanized caps. Handcuffs gleamed brightly at his hip, and she couldn't suppress the shudders that began to wrack her.

Lieutenant Ishida Yamato, it seemed, had obviously not changed after work.

"Yamato! Looking good!" Taichi grinned at his friend. "You're not planning on arresting somebody tonight, are you?"

The blond grinned in return, smiling broadly at his friend. "Of course not. I'm off duty. I just couldn't find any clothes to change into."

His eyes moved across the bar, glancing briefly at Sora before stopping dead on at Mimi.

His cock jerked to life.

The skirt was sinfully short, and he knew that if he sat down and she walked right by him, he would be able to see up it and find out just what she wore as underwear.

Her breasts pressed tightly against the white top, increasing his need tenfold as he imagined himself pumping his arousal between the creamy swells, watching her face as pleasure filled her eyes.

Watching her lick him and gasp as he came all over her tits.

Fighting back a loud groan, he fought for calm as he made his way over to her. Looking her over, arousal bright in his eyes, he instead leaned forward and asked for a good old, ice-cold beer.

"Good evening, Ishida-san. How are you?"

He turned his head towards the two women, noting that it had been Sora who had spoken.

He smiled. "Ah, you know, I could be better. Couldn't everybody? And you?"

"Pretty damn good, actually, thanks." She smiled sweetly. "So, what brings you here?"

He thanked the bartender for the beer, telling him to add it to his tab. "The same thing that brings me here every week. Good music, good beer, and hot girls." He winked.

At the mention of women, Mimi felt a strange part of her flare to life, something that grew angry and frightful at the sight of Yamato with another woman. It was almost like she was jealous of him with another girl.

Shrugging it off, she shifted slightly on the seat she had taken over, moving her arms in such a way that her breasts were pushed dangerously higher. Then, with her breasts at near-exploding point, she turned and face Yamato.

"I suppose it would all right for me to call you Lieutenant tonight, right?" She kept her voice sensual and erotic, and had to fight herself from looking at his crotch to see the reaction she got.

His pants were already getting painfully tight, and that pain increased tenfold as he gained access to the perfect view of her breasts. The sudden urge to just grab them, right there, and expose them for himself beckoned him, causing his balls to further tighten and dick to swell even more.

Fighting a nearly losing battle for calm, he tried to take a sip without making his hand shake, and let out a soft exhale.

Then he smiled. "Certainly." He knew what game she was playing, and he knew that he, too, could play it. It was called Arouse the Other Person. In this case, he called it Make Mimi Wet.

Leaning forward, he let his breath tingling across her cheek as he 'whispered' into her ear. "Of course, if you're naughty, I just might have to handcuff you."

Gooseflesh covered her skin in record time and her body arched slightly and involuntarily towards him. Her lashes fluttered downwards at the feel of his hot breath on her flesh, teasing her, making her breasts swell and nipples ache each time they rubbed against the bra.

She felt liquid heat pool in her womb and she actually feared getting up.

She should have worn underwear.

Gulping a mouthful of her beverage, she let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as she yearned for her composure to return. Shifting slightly, hoping the mere movement might be able to distract her; she fought back a shudder as her thighs shifted, sending waves pulsing to her core.

Sweet Kami-sama let somebody help her.

Sipping her drink, trying to let the alcohol diffuse the desire coursing through her veins, she shifted again, stretching out her legs, making sure the light caught the vinyl and made it shine.

"But what if I'm nice, Lieutenant?"

Again, he grinned. "Again, it depends on how nice you are."

Her smile was teasing, taunting, matching the mischief glowing in her brilliant, whiskey eyes.

"But, Lieutenant … what if I don't want to be nice?"

**Ahhhh,**

**The end.**

**I had, at first, continued this chapter, but decided to end it on a cliffhanger, basically because, I love cliffhangers.**

**Also, because I wasn't sure how to end it with the original bit.**

**So end, I'm ending it as such. **

**I might not be able to write for the next couple of weeks; I have a pile of midterms and a bunch of assignments due in a short while, and will be really busy with school work, so I apologize ahead of time for any waiting I make you guys do.**

**Please forgive me.**

**Also, don't forget my chapter/review rule, please.**

**Oh yeah…one last thing: thanks for all of your reviews. I really, truly do enjoy reading them. It makes me so happy to know that some people enjoy my writing. Thanks.**

**Ja ne!**


	10. Videotaped Fantasies

**Warning: I decided to bake a lovely key LIME pie. Mrowr. A little detailed, but hopefully not too erotic. Mrowr.**

**FIRST THREE REVIEWERS GET A SPECIAL PRIZE. (Not that I can give you guys much over the net, lol)**

**Chapter Ten **

**Videotaped Fantasies**

His mouth dried and he visibly jerked at her sudden, sensual, and blatantly erotic words. He felt his pants tighten further, creating a constant friction of heat against his pulsing erection. Her lips had pursed as she had spoken, curling into a pair of sensual, plump, red lips that begged to be kissed. Her tongue had darted, moistened those lips, and he felt his groin tighten a hundred times more. Her eyes had flashed with a devilish daring, almost as though she dared him to punish her for being naughty.

She leaned back in her seat, legs stretched out before her, sipping her drink, trying her hardest to appear calm and cool while her insides rage with flames of desire that were close to consuming her entire being. She had watched him tense with sudden need, and her gaze had instantly fallen on what lay just below the leather belt at his waist. She saw the outline; the thick and large outline of him, hot, hard and ready to be pounded into her. She knew, that very instant, that she was more than ready to receive him, and that her body yearned for him to push himself deep within her moisten core.

Biting back a moan of delight as she saw him twitch, noting mentally that he wore absolutely nothing underneath the pants; she felt moisture nearly gush between her thighs. Shifting, suddenly uncomfortable with the sudden intense, wet heat at the juncture of her thighs, she tried to focus on anything other than the pulsing erection right beside her.

"Oi! You two, stop playing weird sex games, and let's just dance." Sora's voice was a loud cry over the crowd's cries, the pounding music, and incessant sound of desire coursing through their veins.

A brilliant blush covered the therapist's cheeks, and she took the last sip of her drink.

"Sora-kun, you know, as well as I do, that we were not engaging in some sort of sex game." At least, they had not been aware that they had been engaging in a sex game.

"Sure. So you were just looking at his package for the fun of it?"

"Ack!"

He choked on the beer he had order, nearly spitting the beverage out of his mouth. Coughing loudly, he allowed Taichi to pound his back as he fought for air.

"Sweet, merciful Kami-sama. What in hell did you just say?"

"Wow, Yamato, I never knew that you were religious!"

"Yagami, you know what I mean." The blond glared daggers at the brunet first, and then the man's Domme. "What the fuck did you mean by 'looking at his package'? Why in hell were _you_ looking at _my crotch_?"

Sora pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her small breasts as she leaned against the bar. "I wasn't looking at your crotch _willingly_! I was simply _following Mimi's_ gaze!" Stubbornly, she stuck out her tongue at the man, making her appear more like a high school girl disguised as an older woman.

Throughout the entirety of the childish argument, Mimi was focusing all of her attention on her empty glass, fighting back the bright blush coating her cheeks, trying her hardest to appear innocent in the Point-the-Finger game they were playing. Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and let the music flow through her, beckoning it to ease the pulsing desire coursing through her body, begging for it to take her away to its own world of sweet fantasies.

"Oi, Tachikawa!" Her eyes flew open, finding herself face-to-face with Sora. "How about we ditch the crotch man and head on over to the dance floor? Sound good to you?"

Smiling, finally glad that they were able to focus on something other than the man beside her; she nodded, placing her empty glass aside before following the girl out into the crowd.

She felt the beat throughout her body, moving her body in sync with the rhythm, undulating her hips as sweat slowly began to bead on her flesh. Her skirt swished around her thighs, and the delectable breeze that brushed against her core slowly eased the heat caused by the molten lava dripping between her legs. Her eyes shut, arms moving with the music, as she let the sound consume her.

Move.

Dance.

Breathe.

Gasp.

Touch.

Taste.

Focus.

The words filled her mind, single, simple words as she became one with the music, her body twisting passionately in tune, her eyes remaining shut as she made love to the sound, her hands trailing over her body, touching nearly every spot that was exposed, feeling the slickness of the sweat on her flesh as the beat increased.

Don't stop.

She felt warm hands fall on her hips, but didn't heed any attention to them. The music was powerful, bathing her in its strength and passion, urging her to fully succumb to its sensual strength.

A hot breath bathed her throat, and she felt the tickle of hair against her cheek.

Desire slowly began to course through her veins anew, battling against the music for dominance, fighting a battle of seduction and passion. She felt her heart speed up against her chest, her lungs slowly begin the fight for air as need became the sole focus of her body.

She leaned back against the hard, taut planes of the chest, her head falling back against the shoulder she could barely reach. She felt his warm hands wrap tighter around her waist, falling just at the base of her abdomen, teasing and taunting the bare flesh with a feather light dance of the fingertips.

The heat against her buttocks causing the dissipated molten lava to return with a vengeance, soaking her flesh with need as she felt him, hot and ready, against her back. She felt every movement against her, and each movement sent ripples of need violently through her body, nearly physically jerking her with electrical shocks of desire.

A quiet moan slipped past her lips, her breath warm against his throat as she arched up against him, the need to rub her body against him, to touch every part of him, becoming increasingly stronger as the beat grew faster.

Their hips moved as one, swaying, her buttocks grinding against his groin, his hands growing tighter around her waist, urging her closer with each second, needing to feel himself completely against her soft, smooth body.

Slowly, his lips made their way to her throat, placing teasing, butterfly kisses against her exposed flesh, tasting with wonder the salty flavour of her sweat with the stronger undertone of cinnamon that soaked her skin.

Growling with pleasure, his grasp tightened, and their movements became slightly rougher, the undulation of their hips stronger as the beat further quickened. His tongue darted out and touched her fevered flesh, the growl at the back of his throat growing louder as he felt her skin tighten and body arch with need.

She swung around in his arms, her face aglow with pleasure and delight, and she twined her arms around his neck, moving closer to him, grinding her groin against his, teasing with his touches and soft smiles.

His leg found itself placed between her thighs, and she ground against him, her eyes darkening with need.

Her hot breath against his throat caused his body to twitch involuntarily, and he bit back a groan as she began to softly whisper in his ear.

"Well, Lieutenant, I believe I'm being rather naughty."

The growl escaped his lips, and he grasped hold of her hand, tugging her viciously out of the crowd. He wasn't necessarily certain what had overcome him, but he knew, at that very moment, that he wanted to take this woman, this woman he barely knew, and show her every single bit of carnal knowledge he possessed.

There was just something about her that made him need her more than he had ever needed somebody before. The desire coursing through his body had finally consumed him, immersing him with white-hot flames that licked along his body, aching to be put out in the most carnal, passionate way possible.

His grip on her hand tightened, and he yanked her harder through the crowd, tugging her down a slightly shadowed hallway, before pressing her up against a wall, reveling in the feel of the soft contours of her body pressed up against his.

She fit perfectly against him.

Groaning with delight at the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, his lowered his mouth to hers in a searing, hot kiss that made her toes curl and her mind go blank as desire completely took over.

Her hands wound up his back, nails digging into his shoulders as she arched up against him, urging him to deepen the kiss, begging him to enter her mouth and twine his tongue around hers. She needed to feel him, any part of him, going inside of her, even if it was just his tongue entering her mouth.

Gasping for air, she moaned against his lips, pressing her body harder against his, her body going haywire at the feel of his rough, rugged muscles pressing against her soft curves, searing her skin with pleasure that rocked her entire being into a nearly nonexistent world where there was only pleasure.

Never before had she felt such passion from a single kiss.

His tongue delved deep into the moist cavern that was her mouth, and she felt his body tense with delight and reveled in the groan that escaped his lips as he touched the silver, metal ball on her tongue.

Growling from the back of his throat, he teased the area around the piercing before twining his tongue around hers, the two dancing, each time they touched sending fireworks of pleasure exploding throughout their bodies. She felt on fire, as though the very flames of his desire had traveled from his body to hers, bathing her in the licking flames that teased her flesh and brought her closer to the precipice that, when jumped over, would lead her into the ultimate sensation of bliss.

Her heart hammered against his, their beat the same as the passion grew, their lungs screaming for air while they continued the aggressive kiss, bruising and biting, nipping and licking, needing to feel more, needing to touch more.

His hands tightened on her waist, nearly bruising the ivory skin as he bit down on her lower lip, tugging it, smiling the most sensual, desirable grin she had ever seen aimed towards her in her life.

Her eyes met his, and she that they were dark, turbulent with growing need, violent tides that were consumed and moved by sheer, absolute pleasure. Dark oceans she ached to drown in. They were filled with such need that it shook her entire body.

The shudder that ran through her nearly broke his entire resolve not to take her, right then and there, against the wall. Instead, he let out a low, guttural groan of delight, his mouth moving back from hers to trail hot kiss down her jaw.

He watched her eyes as the lids fluttered half-shut, the dark lashes creating soft shadows against her cheeks, but he was focused more on the dark, aged whiskey look her eyes had achieved. They were dark with need, aglow with the same passion that overtook his senses and made him go wild with passion.

Her body arched up against his as his teeth nipped at the long column that was her throat. His tongue painted a wet trail down the side of her throat, causing gooseflesh to rise all over her body. Her swore he felt her nipples pressing through her bra, and he growled with delight.

His teeth bit her throat harder, the beast in him quite pleased at the way she let out a soft, mewling cry of pleasure, delighted in the idea that he would mark her as his.

A hand slowly snaked its way up her exposed stomach, before roughly cupping a full breast in his hand, not waiting for anything.

"Ah."

He latched onto her throat, sucking and biting the same spot as a chain of control snapped right in half, shattering into a million shards as he felt the warmth of her skin beneath the thin material of the 'blouse' she wore.

He brushed the top of the creamy swell, and his dick screamed with the need to be shoved into her moist center.

Her skin was even softer than it looked.

Growling, his lips found their way back to hers against as he massaged her breast through the shirt, enjoying the pure feel of her body arching up against him each time he dug his nails in, every second he breathe his pleasure into her mouth as their tongues battled for dominance.

He barely knew her, but he wanted her. Needed her with a passion that was strange, new, and terrifying.

But he wasn't about to allow that fear to cause him to pull back from their passionate embrace.

"Do you want me, Mimi?" His voice was low and husky, rich, dark chocolate that screamed need. "Do you want to feel me pounding inside of your pussy?" His teeth found her earlobe and nipped it. "Do you want me to make you cum?"

Her gasp of pleasure ripped through his body, and his hand found itself at the edge of her skirt, touching the area of her thigh were the thin lace gave way to soft skin. Her legs opened slowly, and her body arched up against him.

"Answer me, you little slut."

His grip on her breast tightened and she let out a louder cry as pleasure ripped through her.

"Yes," she panted, "please. Please … Yamato … please."

She didn't know what had overcome her; she was ready to have sex with this man, this stranger, in the middle of a bloody hallway. But the desire that filled her, that sent moisture pooling between her thighs and dripping down her legs was too strong to battle. It was winning, and, although her conscience was screaming at her not to do it, she found herself unable to fight back.

His hand trailed up her skirt, and he bit down on her throat, claiming another spot as his own as he sucked the exposed flesh. Her gasp of pleasure caused him to shudder with desire, and his growl came from the very center of his body, his teeth gnashing roughly against her skin as his hand toyed with the flesh just below the juncture at her thighs.

His eyes widened with delight as he cupped her.

"No underwear."

The two words were hoarsely gasped against her throat, and his body tightened with sheer, absolute, incessant pleasure as he felt her moist heat beneath his fingertips.

A loud cry escaped her lips as her head fell back against the wall, his fingers slowly spreading her petals until they found the soft, wet core of her body, slowly, tenderly, sliding on finger up her slit until it met another metal object, similar to the one on her tongue.

"Another?"

She could barely nod as he toyed with the piercing, using it to add pressure to the most sensitive part of her body.

Ripples of need immersed her, swallowing her, tugging her down into the oceans of pleasure that she was drowning in. Her breasts tightened against his hand, nipples rubbing erotically against the material of her bra as she arched up and twisted in his grasp as he slowly began the process of bringing her to an orgasm.

"Ahem."

She felt the edge nearing, the mountain top that she would jump off of and land into a sea of roaming hands, delighted tongues, and pleasure so intense that it would nearly kill her.

"Ahem."

His mouth crushed down to hers, bruising her lips and tongue as he added even more pressure against her body.

"If you do not cease this very minute, I will have to ask you to leave the premises."

That got their attention.

Their heads swung in the direction of the voice, and the pleasure instantly subsided, bringing on wave after wave of embarrassment. Yamato slowly withdrew his hand, trying to make it seem as unnoticeable as possible, his mouth moving away from hers as they met the eyes of a tall, dark man, muscle bound and looking rather irked, despite the glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes.

A dark blush covered Mimi's cheeks as she glanced downwards to the ground, trying to fight the urge to look at Yamato's full, obvious arousal pressing against his pants.

Yamato, as opposed to the suddenly shy woman before him, grinned back at the guard, trying to appear as sheepish as possible at the idea of what they had been doing in the hallway.

"Sorry, we kind of got caught in the moment." He made eye contact with the man. "I promise that it won't happen again." His grin broadened as he attempted to have a man-to-man staring period.

The guard slowly nodded before making his way around them to head along the doors to the rooms, knocking on the first one.

Yamato turned his gaze to the woman before him, and his eyes lit with pleasure.

"So, Tachikawa-san, do you want to get a room?"

In the small moment that man had interrupted them and spoken briefly with Yamato, she had finally been able to think clearly about the situation that they were in. She had thrown caution to the wind and allowed this man she barely knew nearly take her, right then and there in the middle of a hallway, right in the middle of a crowded area. She couldn't let it happen again.

Just as she had fought for an excuse, any excuse, to get away from him, the reality of the situation crashed down on her. Why had he been all over her? What had instigated such passion?

It was strange for him to have suddenly leapt on her like that, as though he had been waiting for her for weeks on end. But she knew, something inside of her told her, that he hadn't been waiting for her at all.

Her eyes burned with tears of embarrassment and pain.

It was all an act.

Her response was snarled at it, an angry, curt answer filled with anger and hurt.

"No."

He jerked back, eyes aglow with confusion as he gazed down at her suddenly tense, nervous body.

Frowning, he glanced at her, trying to perceive what emotions lay beneath the exterior, trying to find a way to decipher just _why_ she had suddenly grown so cold towards him.

"And your reasoning behind this is…?"

She knew. Deep down, she knew that this whole scene had been nothing but fake. A simple, easy act to show to the world, to profess as real, and to lure out the killer.

She smiled a dark, cold, hurt smile before slowly walking away,

"Isn't it obvious, _Lieutenant_? You're undercover; this doesn't mean anything to you."

* * *

For the remainder of the next hour or so, Mimi found herself sulking at the bar, fighting the great urge to drown herself in oceans of alcohol. Instead, she sipped gingerly at her third drink, taking her time, not knowing just what she would do if she had too much to drink and the Lieutenant showed up. She wanted to be on guard and ready to do battle at any second. 

Sora had attempted to lure her friend onto the dance floor, but that had resulted in a snarled response and a heavy sigh from either side as they departed from one another. Taichi had even passed by to try and tempt his friend into at least one dance, but, like her reaction with Sora, it had not ended well.

Sipping slowly at her Midori, she leaned back against the bar, watching the entire world dance and move on the floor, no longer consumed by the music nor the desire that still burned in her veins, mere, golden embers of it dotting her blood, preparing to be fed into a giant, swelling wave of fire, ready to consume her very being.

Sighing heavily, she leaned back against the counter, closing her eyes as she tried to let the music slowly ebb its way back into her body, trying her hardest to focus on anything other than the pain of the man who had acted so desired by her.

A cool hand landed on her shoulder and her eyes flung open, ready to do battle against the angry, blond Adonis.

Instead, her eyes met dark, navy blue ones, not at all like the bright, pale blue eyes of the blond man.

"Um…"

"Tachikawa Mimi, I presume?"

"Hai?"

"I need to see you for a few minutes. Would you please follow me?"

Arching a brow, she looked the man up and down, glancing at the dark, navy suit he wore, which matched perfectly the colour of his nearly-shoulder-length, black-blue hair that fell stylishly around his chiseled, yet slightly feminine, face. It was all sharp angles, with a few softer touches, giving a strong, serious appearance and slightly happier, calmer look.

"And you are…?"

His eyes lit with amusement and he slowly adjusted the pair of glasses that lay on his long nose.

"Kido Jyou." He smiled as recognition hit her hard. "I assume you know my name, at the very least?"

"Y…yes. I do." A soft blush coated her cheeks. Placing her drink aside, she slowly stood up, brushing down her skirt. "So, where are you going to take me?"

A smile played at his lips and he gestured for her to follow him. Silently, she followed him as he maneuvered through the sweaty crowd, somehow managing not to be touched by a single body as they shifted and danced their way through.

She trailed behind him as he lead down her down a long hallway, rather similar to the hallway Yamato and her had just been in. Shoving away the erotic thoughts, she focused on following the club owner down the hallway and into the office at the very end.

She glanced around at the dark green walls, her eyes falling on the soft, cream carpet covering the floor, gazing at the mahogany bookcase and the matching, mahogany desk, shining softly in the pale light of the room.

He gestured to a set of black, leather seats in front of the desk as he sat himself down behind the desk, patiently waiting for her to take a seat.

Finding a comfortable position on the chair, she crossed her legs, making sure that he couldn't find a single way to glance up her skirt. Leaning back in the seat, she smiled softly to try and ease the sudden tension that was fighting to swallow her.

"So, Kido-san, what is it you wanted to see me about?"

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his fingers, his eyes focusing on her.

"Tachikawa-san, or, well, may I call you Mimi? I find it's just easier to skip the formalities and just call someone by their name, don't you?"

She slowly nodded. "Then I suppose that I may be able to call you Jyou?"

He nodded in return. "Hai." He leaned forward this time. "Very well, Mimi. I would like to confer about a few things, and I would like to speak about them slowly, take our time about it." He smiled. "So, first things first, I would like to know what's going on between you and the Lieutenant?"

Her eyes widened with confusion, and she physically jerked back, mouth slowly open in awe as she wondered just what the man was getting at. What did he know about Lieutenant Ishida that she did not? Was there something else? Something he hid from her, and refused to tell her?

_'What else are you hiding, Lieutenant?'_

"I don't see why I should be discussing any relationship I have with anybody with you. If you would be kind enough to give a reason for such, I may tell you about it." She smiled softly in return, waiting patiently for his answer.

"I was simply curious to know whether the lovely act down my hall was simply to lure out the criminal, or to just extinguish a few flames of passion. That is all."

His statement about the criminal jerked away most of her precautions and her eyes widened. "What do you know about the criminal? What are you talking about?"

His smiled broadened just the slightest. "Well, I am aware, or at least I was aware, that you were working on the case with the Lieutenant. I was simply curious if your sexual activities down my hall were a way to try and lure the killer into the public, to try and get him to attack you and give you a chance to capture him. That is all."

Frowning slowly, she arched a brow at him, wondering just what he was getting at.

"Jyou, I must say that I am quite confused by your intentions. You simply added a few details to your earlier statement, but haven't added any real reasoning for this. You barely known me, and I doubt that you barely know the Lieutenant either. So, I must admit that I have not found a reason to give you any information as of yet."

The man's smiled broadened just the slightly bit as he unclasped his hands and leaned back against his seat, toying with his glasses. "Well, Mimi, I must admit that, although I have no true, personal feelings directed towards you in particular, I would be most distraught if, yet, another client of mine was injured at my bar, especially if they were injured trying to capture the killer attacking my clubs." His eyes glittered. "Is that enough of a proper, sound reason for you? Or do you wish for me to go into a big, passionate monologue about how I care about my clientele?"

She couldn't help but feel her lips quirk with slight delight at his statement and her eyes glittered softly in the dim light.

"I suppose so, giving that you barely know me, I guess that it is a reasonable answer for someone like you." She sighed softly, leaning back against the leather back of the chair. "Very well. You've got me. I will make this very clear. The relationship between the Lieutenant and myself is merely professional. I do not fraternize with him outside of the police station or my office, nor do I do anything but discuss business with him outside of the office or station. We are careful about what we discuss, ensuring that nobody will be able to understand what we're discussing." She let out another quiet sigh. "This evening's charade was just that, a charade. It meant nothing and the main purpose _was_ to simply lure out the killer."

At those words, at the sudden admittance that, for at least Yamato, the entire situation had been a façade, ripples of pain overwhelmed her, sending brilliantly, strong waves of pain throughout her body, nearly consuming her. She didn't know why she felt such pain; all she knew was that it was present, and very much hated.

Fighting back the onslaught of agony that had filled her, she focused all of her attention to his reaction towards her statement, trying her hardest not to focus on the inner turmoil that had suddenly decided to attempt to consume her.

He slowly nodded, silently understanding the reasoning behind the situation.

"I see." He clasped his hands a second time. "Then, I feel that I must try and persuade you to be, at the very least, careful in your actions. It would pain me to lose another client, especially one that comes so often and has befriended much of my staff." His eyes glimmered, and she could tell that, deep down, he didn't truly care about her or his staff; he cared about the amount of money she was paying him each month for all of the extra things she wanted access to.

He slowly stood up, walking across the room to where a large, black curtain was draped along the wall, obviously used to either hide a set of large windows, which Mimi thought would be quite odd to have, or something he did not want others to see.

He tugged the curtain aside, giving her a good view of about a dozen screens, each showing a different picture. Each showing an image of what was happening in different areas of club at the exact moment in time.

She slowly frowned as he began to explain what the screens were depicting.

"This is my personal security area, a place where the guards do not have access to and I am able to keep an eye on all of the happenings in my club at once." He pressed a button and a final, blank screen lit up, showing a list of videos that had been recorded. "I also keep a record of every single video recorded by the cameras, using it as a reference to know which nights to keep open, which clients caused problems, and the rest of the basics."

She arched a brow in confusion, wondering just why he was giving her all of this information.

"Mimi, I trust you enough, not just as a client, but by your reputation outside of my club, that you stick to what you're doing and do what you need to do in an honest fashion." He gestured to the rows of screens. "This is why I trust you enough to give you access to my tapes. I have already set up the tapes for the nights of the murders, and have placed them aside." He pointed to a small stack of tapes on the end of the table.

Well, small didn't really say much, seeing as there were about 60 tapes in total. However, the tapes in 2014 were much smaller than they had previously been, actually similar to USB Storage Devices, easy to plug into a television and easy to copy.

"You may borrow them for a small period of time, so long as they are back to me by tomorrow evening, before the club opens up."

Frowning, she stood and walked slowly over to the camera area, looking over the tapes before glancing towards him, suspicion aglow in her eyes.

"And why did you not give these, or at the very least mention them, to the Lieutenant?"

He smiled.

"He didn't ask."

Her frown deepened, as did the creases in her brow.

"So, why did you choose me, instead of actually mentioning them to the Lieutenant? Or one of his Detectives?"

His smiled broadened just the slightest.

"Because I trust you."

She knew what it translated into: she paid just a bit more.

* * *

"Fuck!" 

His fist slammed into the punching bag as he cursed loudly, sweat pouring down his body in quick, liquid rivulets, soaking into mat under his feet, moistening the pair of pants he wore on his long, lean legs.

"Shit!"

He kicked hard at the bag, continuing his barrage of curses as he hit it harder with each profanity, pretending there was one particular face on the bag, pretending that his punches and kicks were the words he wanted to jab her with.

"That … bitch!"

Who did she think she was? She got him all hot and bothered back in that damn hallway, and as soon as a guard comes along to try and stop their fun, she rejects him! What the hell was she doing with him in the first place, if she was going to say no in end?

_"No."_

Her words had sounded so cold, filled with such raw anger and hatred directed at him that it actually pained him. It lurched at his stomach and twisted his heart into a million knots, stopping the blood from flowing and making his body numb with a dark, cold agony that threatened to consume him.

"Argh."

His knuckles burned from the feel of them scraping along the bag, raw and bright, a few trickles of blood falling down to the mat at his feet. Yet, he was unaware of the physical pain; the brunt of the psychological torment was too strong for him to handle, and he felt it incessantly eating away at him, threatening to destroy his mind with agony.

"Oi."

He ignored the voice, cursing himself for being so stupid, cursing her for being such a teasing bitch. He knew that she had wanted it. He had felt her, hot and wet, ready to take him, to let him plunge deep inside of her and make her his. He knew that she still wanted him, and would do anything to have him.

So why did she say no?

Kami-sama, he was so sexually frustrated it wasn't even funny.

"Yamato. Earth to Yamato. You going to stop before you break all the bones in your hands or what?'

"Shut the fuck up, Yagami, before I start using you as the goddamn bag!" He turned and snarled in the direction of his friend, eyes lit with unchained fury and the incessant need to satiate himself.

Taichi moved back slightly, arms up in a way that demonstrated he was not going to harm Yamato or move any closer to the raging blond. Instead, he tried for a smile, attempting to seem relaxed and at ease with the situation, rather than tensed up and worried about his friend.

"Yamato, it's nearly midnight. How about we just leave, go home, and rest for a bit, all right? Or crash another party at some other club? Sound good?" He was still garbed in his Sub outfit, having left the club the moment he had noticed that Yamato had not returned from the bathroom.

"How about you just leave me the fuck alone? Sound good to you?"

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, removing the smile from his face. "No, Yamato, it does _not_ sound good me. And you punching the brains out of your bag don't _look_ good, either. Come on, you're freaking out over nothing. You're just stressed. What you need is to either, A) go out to another club and fuck the brains out of some sexy, little blonde Sub, or B) go home and get some rest without thinking about anything to do with the case," he paused, "or Tachikawa-san."

"Fuck!"

His fist slammed hard into the bag, and he stopped, breathing heavily, gasping for air as he fought the barrage of pain that had filled him at the sudden mention of her name.

Why was he hurting so much for a woman he barely knew? Why was it that it infuriated him that she refused him? What was it about her that made him ache the way he did?

He slowly let himself fall to his knees, where he remained, trying his hardest to think up the answers to his questions, trying to pull himself out of the circle of pain that constantly tugged at his heart.

He felt Taichi kneel beside him.

"Yamato, you can't let such a little thing get to you like this. So she said no. So what? It's not the end of the world, and you know it." He smiled. "It may feel like the end of the world, but it isn't. There will be other opportunities, but I'm willing to bet that it was too soon for her."

"Too soon? How the fuck can that make sense? She goes to those bars and always sleeps with those fucking strangers. One night goddamn stand, every single fucking Friday night. Kami knows how many goddamn men she's slept with!"

The smile still played at Taichi's lips, and he couldn't fight back the urge to broaden the smile.

"Yeah, but you're different from the others." He leaned back on the balls of his feet, having shifted his stance. "I know that you guys have only known each other for a short period of time, but it's growing more and more obvious that you're attracted to one another. And I mean real obvious. Okay, maybe not too obvious, but you can tell just in the way she looked at you." His grin broadened even more. "Yamato, I believe she likes you, and she's probably very confused right now."

Nursing the suddenly painful hands, the blond glanced at his friend, confusion glittering in his brilliant, blue eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, I'll keep it simple. She's probably never felt like this towards _anybody_ before, and you barely know each other. So, when the guard interrupted your little love session, and don't ask me about how I know it, she had just enough time to wonder why the session was meaning a bit more than just sex to her. It scared her, and, in the end, she wound up saying no as a defense mechanism.

"She doesn't like feeling afraid; it probably makes her feel vulnerable, just like the rest of us, and I'm willing to bet anything that she doesn't like jumping into relationships with such little detail about the other person. Do you want to hear my suggestion or just go back to hitting that thing like an angry five-year-old?"

Sighing heavily, he knew when he was bested and when to give up. Taichi certainly did make quite a bit of sense, and Yamato wondered if Taichi took some psychology courses in college.

"Go ahead."

"All right. I only have one suggestion, and it's pretty straightforward."

"What is it?"

"Okay, well I have two."

"Fuck, Taichi, get along with it or I'm going to fucking hit you." He waved his fist at the brunet.

"All right, all right." Taichi smiled. "First, take your time, relax with her, get to know her a bit more, maybe suggest going out to dinner one night, make it more formal, more for business, but bring up a few personal things, and develop on that."

"And the second suggestion?"

Taichi's smile softened just a touch.

"When the time is right, tell her that you –"

"Oi! You two! The therapist is here and man, she has some pretty neat shit to show us!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Miyako? I thought that she was still out!" Taichi yelled back at the voice from the entrance to the training room, watching as the girl popped her head into the room.

"Yeah, she was. But then she came here. She's got _camera recordings_!"

Gathering themselves, they slowly made their way to the door, hoping that they finally had a lead in the damn case.

**Done, done, dooonnnneee.**

**I love you guys so much.**

**Oh, I wanted to mention something before I professed my love.**

**Animegirl: THANK YOU for showing me a few errors in the past couple of chapters. I really appreciate that you're keeping an eye out for my mistakes, as well as enjoying my reading. **

**Thanks a bunch.**

**So, you get a special super slice of Key Lime Pie. **

**The other three only get regular slices. **

**Anyways, yes, please let her be an example to you all and please notify me if there is anything in any of my chapters that doesn't seem consistent or is misspelled, thanks.**

**So, I hope you all enjoyed this lovely chapter, and please do not forget my rule. I enjoy reading all of your reviews, and have obtained such a HUGE ego. **

**Hee hee.**

**Ja ne!**


	11. Run

**Chapter 11**

** Run**

She leaned back against the familiar couch, closing her eyes as exhaustion slowly began creeping over her, teasing her towards the lulling world where she was dead to reality and awake to the fantasy realm of her dreams. Her lips parted with a soft sigh as the fantasies beckoned her, pulling her harder towards them and her reveries, where she would not be able to think about the present.

Or the past several hours.

The feel of the bag between her fingertips kept her held tightly onto reality, and tugged her out of her temporary dream-like state. The tapes were jumbled in the bag, but dated, and accompanied with a list of the guards on duty, staff on duty, and which victims were butchered that night.

Something had stood out to her, telling her that if she didn't copy these tapes, they would go nowhere with the investigations. She also knew that she wasn't a cop, and usually, it was the cop who did the work involving evidence, not somebody they hired to do profiles. But, deep down, she knew that if she hadn't done it, nobody else would have.

For some strange reason, the police had not thought about getting security tapes.

The door clicked open, loud and audible in the silence of the office, and her eyes flung open, focusing on the doorway and what stood in it.

He always had such a commanding air about him, as though the very air around him sizzled with electric pulses that demanded absolute submission from all those around him. He was so strong, deliciously muscular and fantastically masculine in all aspects. His lips were set in a grim line, and she noted that he, like her, had not been able to change since leaving the club.

She wondered, as his piercing blue gaze bore into hers, if he had come straight to the station when she had refused his offer.

She noted the way the sweat dripped down his brow and how his shirt appeared to have been roughly tugged back on, and she became curious as to why it had been removed in the first place. Just what had he been doing before she had shown up?

Hurt filled her, breaking at her heart, but she forced herself to draw away from the pain, to block it with the strongest blockade known to man, to build an icy fortress around the pain and focus on anything other than the creator of such indescribable agony.

Following him, breaking the thick silence that had once again filled the room, were Miyako, Taichi, and Ken, all three of which were dressed rather alike.

She found Miyako's outfit rather amusing, it was that of a military officer with a touch of dominatrix, a dark blue skirt matched with a vinyl, white bustier that pushed her small breasts up, giving them the appearance that they were several cup sizes larger. Her long hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and a matching, blue vinyl collar pressed against her throat. Handcuffs glittered at her waist, and Mimi noted that they were, in fact, real police handcuffs.

She wondered if Miyako, too, was a part of the same scene as her and the others.

But that would have been a strange coincidence.

But, for some reason, coincidences seemed to be the main focus of the night, as she dually noted Ken's appearance, dressed as a sensual 1800's vampire, complete with a white silk shirt, open to expose his pale chest, and flared out at the cuffs. His pants were leather and skintight, and the boots he wore were knee-length, and absolutely breathtaking.

He swept back his hair and smiled, flashing what she thought was a pair of sharpened incisors, which, she knew, was actually false fangs.

Nodding slowly in return, she arched a brow at Taichi, noting that he, like the others, had not bothered to change since leaving the club they had been frequenting for the night.

Standing up, she brushed her sinfully short skirt down, before slowly lifting the bag of tapes in her hand.

"I –"

"I know what you have." His words were curt and short, laced with a growl that meant he wanted to dominate, control, and was terribly angered by the fact that he had not be permitted to do so. "What I want to know, right now, is _how_ you managed to gain access to these tapes, when the police were not even offered access to them."

Her lips twitched into a sarcastic smile and her eyes glittered fiercely in return. If he wanted to act childishly furious, she could return the favour with cold sarcasm.

"You didn't ask."

"I believe I just … What the fuck do you mean by, we 'didn't ask'?" The growl in his voice grew more prominent as his stance became stiffer, tension lacing through his body like a plague. "What fucking bullshit is this?"

Miyako slowly stepped forward, pushing back Taichi and Ken as she laid a hand on the infuriated blond's shoulder. "Lieutenant, please remember that we are supposed to be professional. This is just routine, and nothing else."

Slowly, stiffly, he nodded his head in answer, swallowing thickly before returning his fiery gaze on hers, fighting back the growls that welled up in his chest and throat.

"Very well. Tachikawa-san, I must inquire the reason as to why you received permission to access the security tapes, while myself and the other officers on the case were not granted such." His voice was dark and cold, all emotion completely disappearing from it as he allowed his shell of professionalism to swallow him up.

This frightened her more than his naked fury.

Swallowing down her fear, she slowly nodded in answer, her grip tightening on the bag hanging at her waist.

"All right. If you must know, the reason that I came to acquire the tapes while you were not permitted to do so was simple. Kido-san explained to me, straight and simple, was that, since nobody asked for access to the security tapes, he did not grant you access to them. I came to him as a civilian, and he offered them to me as recompense for our charade in the hall as an attempt to lure out the killer." She let out a quiet breath, trying not to recall what had occurred only a couple of hours beforehand. "So, I came to access them, and he gave me ample time to copy them and label them with dates, times, and lists of those working for him at that night."

"What made you bring them to us? Why did you not, instead, just keep them, or not copy them and never tell us about them?"

She lifted her head high, holding herself like a queen, as anger flashed through her eyes at the accusations. "It was the right thing to do. Besides, I'm as much a part of this case as any of you. You should know that," her eyes flashed dangerously in Yamato's direction, "_you _asked me to partake in the investigation."

The growl welled up and was spat out before he could do anything to stop it, and the officers behind him actually recoiled in response, quietly moving back as though they feared he would lash out at any minute.

Fighting for composure, he stalked across the room, heading for the pitcher of water that was always on his bureau, ready with glasses, constantly changed every hour to maintain a cool freshness. Pouring himself a glass, he downed that one, and then a second one, before turning his cooled fury onto the woman before him.

Kami-sama, he couldn't keep staring at her. Not while she was dressed so sinfully delectable, in that skirt and the lovely top, the outfit that enhanced all of her assets and somehow hid any part she wanted to keep hidden. Not that she had any part like that.

Her hands shifted, lifting the bag to him, and he caught a flash of black ink on the inside of her left wrist, before his attention was focused on the bag of tapes being held out to him.

"Lieutenant, I believe that these tapes should belong in police custody because they are pertinent to the case, and could, possibly, give a very solid lead as to who we could suspect. Furthermore, I see it as unfair that I was granted access whilst you were not, and believe that you further deserve to hold these in your possession rather than keep them to myself."

He slowly nodded, his gaze falling again to her wrist, noting, finally, that the black ink was exactly what he had suspected.

The lines curved and shifted, forming a delicately drawn tattoo, the simple yet lovely form of the Kanji word symbolizing submission. His jaw clenched at the double entendre of the word, knowing fully well what it meant, and knowing just what she would say when asked about it.

She would claim that she was submissive to her heart and emotions, and that she would always be controlled by them, no matter what she wanted to do. But he knew, deep down, inside of that fiery beast chained inside of him, that the symbol actually meant something far more erotic.

Brushing back a few stray strands of hair, he closed his eyes before swallowing thickly and reopening them. Growing furious and irritated would do him no good, which was something he had already noted, and he tried his hardest to calm the fury that constantly welled up in him.

He was still unsure as to why he felt so enraged, so horridly angry at her because of her rejection, but he couldn't help it, it swelled over him like a violent wave, crashing down and drowning him with its strength and absolute power. He felt it twining around his heart, soaking his veins with the drunken stupor that was greedy fury, and pouring over inside of his mind.

He couldn't fight it, but he could, for the moment, keep it at bay with a few well-chosen mental words, just a few words strong enough to be able to think clearly for a brief period of time.

Reaching forward, he took the bag from her, careful not to touch any part of her, before turning his back to her, opening the bag and sitting down at his desk, beginning the procedure of stacking them in separate piles.

Glancing up, he watched as she stood there, her eyes on him, impatience, irritation, and confusion aglow in the whiskey orbs. Miyako and the others stood aside, patiently waiting for his orders, wonder obvious in their stances and eyes, making it quite clear that they were perplexed by his actions and lack of command.

"Lieutenant, would you like for us to begin going over the videos? Do you want to do them separately, or have everybody examine the same video at the same time?" This came from Ken, who had finally gathered enough courage to break the tense, furious silence with his voice.

Leaning back in his seat, eyeing the tapes that he had filed by date and time, Yamato contemplated the reasoning behind both questions, wondering just which action would be best considering the time that they had.

Sighing heavily, he glanced at the door, noting that it was closing in on 1 AM, and that all of his comrades, despite having been in the midst of having fun, looked far more tired and exhausted than they had upon their arrival a mere hour ago.

Standing, he pulled out a drawer of his filing cabinet and began the process of placing the stacks neatly inside of the cabinet.

"We will resume this tomorrow. It's too late to begin analyzing things; we're all tired and more likely to miss important details. It would be better to have a fresh mind when we watch them."

The officers nodded slowly, before being released for the night, slowly making their way towards the exit.

Mimi, considering this to be her cue to leave as well, gathered the coat she had laid on the couch beside her, tugging it back on her barely covered body, before making her way to the door.

"Tachikawa-san."

His voice, strong and demanding, stopped her in her tracks, forcing her to turn around and face him. His eyes were such a piercing, clear blue, and the deep, inner rage in them nearly made her knees buckle with fear and a strange, newfound sensation.

"_Hai,_ Lieutenant?"

He noted that she stayed at the door, keeping an ample distance between them, as though she feared he would lunge across the room and savagely take her, right there and then. Or as if she feared he would harm her.

_He would never dare hurt her._

The words were whispered through his mind, causing much confusion, for at the moment, he wished to nothing but throttle her until she learnt her lesson, to spank her until she cried for mercy and begged for forgiveness.

Fighting back a snarl of pleasure at the image of her on her hands and knees, her backside red from his hand, liquid honey dripping from the juncture between her thighs, he slammed the drawer shut, forcing himself to focus on the task of locking it.

"I just wanted to say a couple of quick things." Dear Kami-sama, how was he managing to keep his voice so steady when need and anger made his entire body quake? "First off, I just wanted to ask you to not let what happened tonight get in the way of the investigation." He kept his gaze averted. "There were no emotions involved, so I suggest that you should not fear that I wish to claim you as mine." He missed the distressed, defeating flash of despair that filled her eyes; it was just as quickly gone.

"Secondly," this time he gazed at her, "I just wanted to say that I appreciate that you came here to give us the video tapes. It was very kind of you and I'm quite grateful." His eyes darkened. "Thank you."

Taken aback by his open honesty, she took a sudden step back, eyes widened slightly with confusion. Never had she expected him, this strong, commanding figure, to thank anybody.

Pursing her lips in suspicion, she nodded curtly before turning around, sending her coat swirling at her feet, before marching out of the room, head held high as though she were some regal figure marching into a royal ball.

Sighing heavily, he sat behind his desk, burying his face in his hands with a groan.

* * *

"I hate to be such a bother, especially since it is so terribly late, but I promise that what I have to ask is simple and straightforward." She wrung her hands slightly, feeling like a young child that had been caught red-handed and was trying to find some excuse or another to avoid punishment. "I promise it won't take long, not even ten minutes." 

The man nodded slowly before turning his back to her, leading her down the suddenly familiar hallway. She followed at a decent pace, keeping a good distance between them so that they would not be too uncomfortably close.

The knock was loud, sharp, and curt on the door, and her hands began the wringing process again as anxiety flowed through her veins. She knew that it would be an invasion of privacy, but she had to know…

She needed to know the truth.

His dark eyes glittered with wonder as he caught sight of her, before opening his door to her, beckoning her into his office, adjusting his glasses as he shut the door and faced her.

"Mimi, I didn't expect you to return so soon. I thought that you were done with the recordings?"

She smiled softly at his suddenly kind voice, much gentler than earlier, with the cold, dark tone that was as rich as mounds of yen.

"The recordings were all fine, thank you. But, well, I just have another, small, matter to discuss with you."

He waited patiently for her to speak, leaning against the wall by the door, arms crossed, glasses slightly crooked despite his earlier attempt to straighten them. When she didn't speak, he noted the soft blush that coated her cheeks as though she were thinking embarrassing thoughts, and watched as her eyes darted slightly, fear aglow in them, brilliant and strong, as though the hounds of hell were in her mind, chasing away all thoughts of glee and joy.

"Mimi, what is it you wanted to speak with me about?"

He tried a gentler tone, attempting to sound like the kind father his own had once been, melting the ice in his voice just enough to let tenderness flow through the cracks.

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, running her hands through the hair she had let fall free earlier. When she opened her eyes, the fear had dissipated, replaced with a newfound sense of strength and courage she had wrung from her heart.

"Very well. As I promised not to keep you long, I will get straight to the point." She fidgeted with the cuffs of the coat she had yet to remove. "I need to know whether Ishida Yamato is a real client or not. In order words, I want to know if you have any records of him having been here before the incidents."

Tapping a finger to his lips, Jyou frowned down at the young woman, arching a brow in perplexity, curiosity aglow in his dark eyes.

"And why is it that this information is so terribly important you decided to come back at 2 in the morning and ask me for it?"

Heaving a heavy, shuddering sigh, she fought the urge to rub her eyelids in exhausted frustration, knowing fully well that it would just result in her smudging her make-up.

"I suppose the reason is slightly more … personal." She crossed her arms, not knowing what to do with her hands in the moment of confusion. "He has told me on several occasions that he is constantly undercover, however, many things he has done indicates that he knows about the community. He wears the right clothes, knows some of the words, and even Toshiya is friendly with him, as though they've spoken before." She moistened her lips, the lipstick having faded long ago. "I need to know to ensure that, if he is a part of the community, he will not influence my profiles, or the investigation."

Slowly nodding his head, Jyou imitated her stance, crossing his own arms, but lifting a hand slightly to tap his chin in thought. His eyes darkened as he considered her words for a brief period of time, before the light returned and they seemed to snap open with sharp relief.

"Very well, Tachikawa-san, you have convinced me." He moved over to a filing cabinet near the door, pulling out a small set of keys to open a drawer. "Even though I understand that your motives are mostly personal, I do have a liking for you, and would not like to see you go just because I refuse to give you such minor details." He tugged out a folder, double-checked the name, and handed it to her. "I do not believe that I must tell you not to speak of this to anyone?"

She held the folder gingerly between her fingertips, as though she could barely believe that obtaining access to it could have been so easy. Nodding her head, she smiled. "Thank you, Jyou. I owe you so much, and I truly appreciate your kindness."

Sitting down, she opened the folder, feeling his gaze on her back as she checked through the records.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.

"Oh my…"

* * *

"Dear, sweet Kami-sama, I'm so _tired_."

"Oh, quit your complaining, Taichi, or I'm going to kick you in the shins!"

"But I'm _exhausted!_ Sora wouldn't let me sleep until 5am!"

"Oh, poor you. Why didn't you go to bed earlier?"

"Because, Miyako, when a woman offers you sex, non-stop, as long as she wants because she doesn't work the next day, a guy just can't say no!"

"How about this, the two of you stop your bickering so we can watch the goddamn video in peace?"

"All right, Yamato."

There was silence in the room as the group of four watched the tape, two particular men – one blond, one dark-haired – relishing the brief period of silence. Until …

"Oh shit, do you see those two going at it? Damn!!"

"Yagami Taichi! You are beyond perverted! I ought to tell Sora and have her throttle you."

"Aw, now, Miyako, where's the fun in that when I know you want to strangle me?"

"The fun is in watching you struggle and not have to concentrate on killing you."

"Either you two shut the hell up, or I'm going to send both of you to two separate jail cells for the remainder of this fucking investigation!"

His head ached with a constant, throbbing pain that raced from his spine to his temples, both beating in the same, incessant rhythm of pure, agonizing torture, bent on destroying his sheer sanity. The lack of sleep had not only contributed to this headache, but had helped morph, mutate, and create the pain in his head.

He had hoped that, in watching the silent videos, the pain might pity him and slowly begin subsiding, but the constant bickering between Taichi and Miyako proved him wrong.

The damn viewing was anything but silent.

"Aw, Yama-kun is getting just a touch cranky. Poor boy." Miyako leaned forward, noting the dark circles that were forming under the Lieutenant's eyes. "Does Yama-kun need a nap?"

He hissed through his teeth, cursing Kami-sama for allowing the Inoues to give birth to such an irritating child, as well as cursing Ken for allowing himself to be commanded by such an annoying woman.

Cursing just about everything that existed, or not, Yamato leaned his head fall back, focusing his attention on the stark white ceiling above them, before shutting his eyes and trying to will death to take him without question.

Ken stood up, stretching his arms high above his head, before facing the group. "All right, I guess we should take a break, eh? I mean, we've been watching these videos for hours and we haven't gotten anything out of them except for Tai irritating Miyako, and Yamato getting more and more annoyed." He smiled softly at the group. "How about we all go out and have a bite to eat? Go someplace nice for sukiyaki or something? How does that sound?"

Smiling softly to her current lover, Miyako's eyes softened from the childish glow they had previously contained.

"Sounds like a good idea, Ken, I think that we could all use a break."

Yamato lifted his head, opening his eyes in the process, and listened as they tried to decide where to go to lunch, acting as though they had completely forgotten about the video still rolling on the television, the colours bright and permitting then to decipher just who was who in the images.

Mimi had called earlier to let them know that there was sound in the videos, too, but most of the time it was just the sound of the music in the background. It would be quite difficult to determine what was said between any private conversations amongst the customers and staff, so they had decided to simply leave it on Mute.

He watched as the camera flickered from one image to the next, changing from the constant rhythm of the bodies undulating on the dance floor, to an angled profile of a section of private rooms, letting them see the fronts of the doors just enough to see the room numbers.

Arching a brow in speculation, he watched as a guard began a brief check of each room, knocking, interrupting the private sessions going on with his demands for identification and proof that they frequented the club. He watched as the guard went from one room to the next, keeping his back to the camera, as though he knew where it was and knew that, if he was seen on camera, he would be caught red-handed doing something he should not have been doing.

Yamato's eyes flickered to the date on the top right corner of the screen, a white set of numbers on a black background stating 11/10/2014, the night of the fourth murder. Noting the time, as well, he found that it was near the estimated time of death of Hayada and Karasuma. Frowning, he glanced at the room numbers, before looking at the information on their case.

They were found, deceased, in room 13.

How ironic that they chose the room using an unlucky number, and it happened to be in that particular room that they died. He fought back a sarcastic, crude laugh that had suddenly bubbled at the back of his throat, but it died down quickly as he noted the guard's suddenly strange movements.

The man was pacing back and forth in front of the door, constantly hovering by it as though he expected it to open, or like he expected something to happen in the vicinity of the room.

He kept his head bow, face away from the camera, but there was no mistaking the short cap of chestnut hair and that large, broad-build body that paced nervously by the room door.

Frowning, he watched as the door opened to the room, patiently waiting to see something condemning in the man, and watched as a shorter, hooded figure exited the room, head downcast, body covered by a large sweatshirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants.

Jerking to his feet, he strode to the screen, watching closely for any sign that the man had given away his identity. The guard gestured lightly towards the camera, speaking lowly to the man, it had to be a man, for the build under the baggy clothing was far too stocky, before letting the man walk away without another word.

Yamato's frown deepened as he watched the tape go on, he watched as the guard was spoken to by a couple, and he smiled, gesturing to the door in front of him as though he knew nothing that had happened. As though he was completely unaware that two blood-coated corpses lay beyond in that bloodstained room of death.

He unlocked the door and quickly made his exit.

The door opened…

Yamato could still hear her scream, even now, and he watched as she sank to the floor, her partner having missed her by an inch. He watched the night repeat itself, watched as he, Taichi, and Mimi rushed to the room, still clad in their club outfits, ready to take anything and everything.

He remembered everything that had happened afterwards, and, without thinking even once about doing anything else, he leaned forward, rewound the tape to the scene where the guard and the hooded-man spoke, and pressed the pause, leaving them frozen in their condemning poses.

The trio nearby was still talking ecstatically about the prospect of lunch, their faces smiling brightly, a glow having returned to them that had remained nonexistent for the past month. Yamato hated to be the one to destroy the glow, but he knew that a new one would replace it, the brilliant shimmer of strength and determination when he would tell them that they had a hard suspect, found through circumstantial evidence.

He cleared his throat loudly, and the group stopped their chatter and facing their commander, still smiling softly despite the sudden lack of speech between them.

"_Hai_, Yamato? Did you want to give us an idea of where to go too?"

"No, Miyako, but I do have an idea of where we _could_ go."

"Where's that?"

He gestured to the screen with a smirk. "Back to visit a nice Shibayama Junpei, and ask him a few things about the room number 13.

* * *

The man was covered in sweat, hair plastered to his forward, clothes sticking to his body, panting heavily for the air his lungs terribly lacked. Rubbing a large hand through the short-cropped hair, he opened his brown eyes, arching a brow as he faced the Lieutenant and Detective before him, waiting silently for them to begin his torture session. 

"Shibayama Junpei, I'm going to read you your Rights, and then we can proceed with the formal interview, do you understand?" He nodded. "Good." Taichi briefly read the suspect his rights, before adding, "This session will also be recorded and can be used as evidence against or for the suspect in court. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He watched with wary eyes as the brunet placed the small recorder in the center of the table, before darting his eyes to glance at the grey walls of the interrogation room.

"Very well, let's begin with a simple question." Yamato leaned back in his seat, finding the plastic rather uncomfortable, but quite familiar as it reminded him of the constant questioning Taichi and he had done in the past. Questioning that had given them a break in their case and helped them solve it with ease.

"I expect you to answer the questions fully and honestly, and to not leave out any details you feel could pertain to the case, even the smallest ones that don't seem to be involved with the case. Do you understand? Even one lie, or one thing you leave out, could possibly mean an instant jail time for you."

"Yes. I understand."

"Good." Yamato glanced to the paper before him. "I would like for you to tell me what you were doing between the times of 11:30pm and 12:30am on the night of October 11th, 2014."

Sighing heavily, the guard rubbed his eyes; he was already irritated that they had 'kidnapped' him during his mid-afternoon workout, but the fact that they were asking him questions he had already answered simply increased the irritation.

Scowling, he glanced towards the officers before giving in to their scrutinizing stares. He knew that if he fought back, if he started to make wild claims and allow his irritation to become the best of him, it would do him more harm than good.

But he really wanted to throttle that fucking blue-eyed, blond-haired douchebag of a Lieutenant.

Instead, he clenched his fists, digging his short nails into his flesh as a reminder of reality, and took in a deep breath. "At about 11:30pm, I was in the middle of my shift as a bouncer, waiting outside, making sure that nobody got in who wasn't supposed to be in, and making sure that the right people got out and stayed out. I was basically doing my part at keeping the peace." He cracked a knuckle. "It was going rather slow there; nobody had decided to get trashed enough to want to act like an asshole, and we weren't getting any kids trying to get in, so I was just a bit bored.

"At midnight, I was scheduled to switch with Okayama Shigeru, one of the usual guys I guard with every week. We switched, and I went to do the hourly room checks. It took me about twenty minutes, given the number of rooms we have. Then I was supposed to go and watch over the dance floor and pretty much do the same as I did outside, but that's when the girl found the body, and everybody kind of freaked."

Taichi tapped a pen to his chin in thought, frowning just the slightest, knowing fully well that his question would be the same as Yamato's. "Shibayama-san, could you please tell us what this room check is, and how you know which rooms to go to?"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt…" Junpei swallowed thickly, before continuing. "All right. Room checks are when the guards go from room to room, knocking on the door and asking for identification and proof that they had paid to get in. Guests are always supposed to have I.D. with them in the room, it's a must, and no guest is allowed in a room without it. We always check beforehand, but we check again anyways just to make sure another, unwanted person got in the room later on.

"So, I did the routine checks, using the list Shigeru provided me. Whenever a guest goes into a private room, we marked down "In Use" beside the room number on a piece of paper we have listing all of the rooms in numerical order. It makes our lives a lot easier. But we check the doorknobs of the other rooms just in case, opening the doors, looking in to make sure that nobody had decided to sneak in."

"Was room number 13 on that list?"

Frowning, Junpei's eyes glittered with irritation. "Now how in hell am I supposed to remember that? I can't remember the exact rooms numbers on the list from nearly a freakin' month ago."

"Oh really? Then I suppose that you were not aware that it was in room 13 that the victims of that night were found? Furthermore, that they had been found shortly before one in the morning, indicating that their room _must_ have been in use before they died."

"And what does that mean?"

Taichi smiled at the same time as Yamato, watching as the Lieutenant continued his small tirade. "It means, Shibayama-san, that you were most likely the last one to see them alive, if you did, indeed, check their room as you claim you did with the rest."

He choked on air, coughing loudly at the sudden claim made by the officer. Once the fit had subsided, he growled lowly from the back of his throat, his eyes turning into suspicious and angry slits.

"Are you suggesting that I had something to do with their death?"

"No, that is not what I'm implying. I'm simply saying that, if you truly checked all of the rooms on the list, that you must have been the last to see them alive." Yamato smiled, a crude, sarcastically furious smile. "Again, I must ask you about room 13. Did you have a particular liking for that room? Or, perhaps, know the occupants of the room personally? Or was it just a coincidence?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't know the two in the room and I did not have a 'particular liking' for any specific room." His scowl deepened. "I really don't know what you're getting at, Lieutenant."

"I just want to know why you were pacing in front of that room, and who the man with you is."

"Where in hell did you make up such accusations?"

Yamato's malicious smile curled even more.

"We have a recording."

"I want my lawyer."

* * *

"What happened after that?" 

"He refused to budge, he didn't speak or do anything at all until his lawyer showed up. Then, his lawyer made all of these crazy claims, making it sound like we were brutalizing him."

Mimi shifted the phone to her other ear, scribbling down a subscription on the piece of paper before her.

"Really? And were you?"

She listened to Taichi's sharp laugh; a sarcastic chuckle that was louder than it should have sounded.

"Do you really believe that we brutalize our suspects? If we did that, we'd all be fired and Japan would be nothing short of anarchy."

She folded the paper and placed it aside, before placing the phone back to her other ear, leaning back in the seat. "True, you do make a point." She chewed on the pen cap, a habit she had just recently developed.

"So, tell me what happened after the whole allegations."

"Well, the lawyer got all pissed when we proved him wrong, and then said that we had no evidence to prove that the guy was anywhere near the room before they died."

"Oh really? Well, that just doesn't fit at all, now does it?"

"Exactly. He got even more pissed when we showed him the tape, and replayed the guy's statements. I guess that he had expected the guard to have lied, or maybe have told him the truth about the situation. Either way, the guy got away anyways."

"How so?"

"We really had nothing to truly tie him to the case, and his lawyer really enjoyed exploiting that. So, in the end, we just had to say see you later to our only suspect."

"Sounds like you had an entertaining afternoon."

She could almost see the boyish grin, hearing it in his voice as he spoke about his favourite part of the day.

"Yeah, but it was best when Miyako treated us all to sukiyaki and fried ice cream. Sweet Kami-sama, it was so good!"

She chuckled throatily, her eyes falling on the moving screen saver on her computer. "Good for you, Tai." She glanced at the wall, noting the time on the clock, before sighing softly.

"Anyways, I'm going to have to let you go. It's too bad that you guys wound up with a dead end. I'm sure things will brighten up sometime soon."

"Thanks a bunch, Mimi. You have fun."

"Thanks, and you too. _Ja ne_."

"_Ja ne_."

Sitting back in her comfortable chair, she closed her eyes and focused, just for a moment, on the thoughts that swirled through her mind. The pain that constantly hit her each time left her breathless, it left her weak and vulnerable as she thought about the lies that had been whispered to her in the dark. Lies that had been blatantly spoken to her, aloud and in the light, in a world where she believed nobody would dare spread such murmured falsities.

But they did. And the murmurs cut through her skin like the sharpest blade.

It hurt.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she knew that her hands were shaking, she could feel the tremors racing up her arms to slam against her heart, the beat erratic and strange, a cross between relaxation and the feeling she had after running for hours on end.

It scared her.

Why did it hurt so much to know about one lie? How come it brought so much pain to her when, in the past, she barely felt an inkling of agony threading through her veins? What was different now? What was it about him that made her hurt each time she thought of his lies?

Why did it make her think of two years ago?

Oh Kami-sama, why did it make her hurt so much?

Why didn't she know the answers to these questions? How come they kept coming, flowing into her mind in incessant waves, crashing constantly into the solid world she thought she once lived in? Why is it that she just couldn't make them stop?

She wanted them to stop.

She threw herself forward, leaning on her elbows and smashing her face in the palms of her hands as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She fought the tears, fighting quickly to rebuild the dam and block the water from pouring forth. She couldn't cry; she knew that if she cried about something so … small … that she wouldn't stop.

She didn't know why.

_Ring, ring._

She jerked violently out of her seat, eyes opening wide, the brown orbs darting throughout the room in search for the source of the sound. She let out a frighteningly shrill laugh when her eyes fell on the phone by her laptop; the light blinking at it rang insistently.

Pressing the button to respond, she let out a slow, shaky breath before speaking. "_Hai?"_

"Tachikawa-sama, it appears that your next, which is also your last, client canceled again."

"Name?"

"Hida, Iori."

Frowning, her brow creased and eyes sparkled with further confusion. Pursing her lips, she tapped her nail on the button before saying her thanks and letting Isuzu know that she would be leaving in about ten minutes.

Standing up, brushing her hands on her pants, she packed up before turning to look out of the window of the fourteen-story complex, looking down from the top floor at the world below.

Looking up, seeing herself reflected in the glass, watching the moonrise in the inky black sky, she sighed softly.

"Hida Iori, what is it you're doing that you don't want me to know about?"

Exhaling softly once more, she slowly turned, forcing herself to walk away from the frighteningly pale reflection and the terrifying thoughts that chased her everywhere she went.

She knew, deep down, that the thoughts would stay there, hunting her down, and pride kept from doing the one thing she yearned to do.

Run.

**Chapter 11 is now complete, with much difficulty on the last segment, for some strange reason.**

**I didn't want to develop too much on her emotions, 1. Because I kind of got a minor writer's block then. 2. Because if I did, I would probably give too much away.**

**Again, like always, please notify me if I have any mistakes, so that I may correct them and thank the person once more.**

**This time, for last chapter, I have to thank: animegirl and KestrelMae, who both pointed out very obvious errors that I managed to miss. Thanks so much to both of you.**

**Oh, yes, and the winners of the Key Lime Pie are as follows:**

**Third place: tharakhale. (I've been meaning to start reading Give Me Love, it sounds really good, but I haven't had time. I promise I'll read it soon!)**

**Second place: UnbreakableTrio (Yes, I love portraying Tai as a shrink from time to time, I always think he's smarter than he lets on.)**

**First place: Nesha1 (I'm totally waiting impatiently for your next chapter. So, uh, like, totally email it ASAP. Or I shall sob. A lot.)**

**Animegirl, since you got a special, super huge slice, you can't get another, it's only fair.**

**But you know, I promise to bake a Lemon Meringue Pie sometime soon, and everybody will get an e-piece! I promise!**

**Please don't forget my usual review/post rule!!!! **

**Thanks for reading!!!**

**Ja ne!**


	12. Property Claim

**WARNING: Somewhat limey scene, with additions of yaoi in the chapter, not detailed, but described enough to make it apparent.**

**Those who do not enjoy yaoi, I suggest you skip through the part, as it is very brief and intended for slight comic relief. **

**The lime scene is brief, not too described, but I will still give a warning.**

**Also, brief excessive use of the lovely F-word.**

**Enjoy!**

**(For those who do NOT enjoy this, please either skip through the scenes, or just do not read past the part where Mimi enters the club. Thank you.)**

**Chapter 12**

**Property Claims  
**

"_Ohayo_, Sora!"

"_Ohayo gozaimasu_, Mimi. Did you sleep well?"

Placing the kettle on the stove, she filled it with water before turning on the heat. Spinning around to lean against the counter, crossing on sheer stocking-covered leg over the other, Mimi smiled softly at her friend. Although it had been a few days since her encounter with Yamato, and her heart still ached from the experience of discovering his lies, she felt oddly relaxed and at ease with herself.

She found it quite strange.

But, she wasn't one to let herself become immersed with spiteful emotions over an event that should have nothing to do with her heart and soul, so she smiled and allowed happiness to make her eyes glow.

"Actually, I did. I've been feeling a tad off the past few days, but now I feel up to par and am ready to take on the world."

Chocolate eyes darted from the magazine on the table to the glowing brunette leaning on the counter. Sora took in her friend's appearance, from the simple, white blouse, to the knee-length, ebony skirt, and the stockings that hugged her thin, yet muscled, legs, soon to disappear under a pair of mid-calf, black boots lying by the door. Her friend's skin seemed to radiate some newfound strength and power, her eyes glimmering brilliantly despite the early hour they were up, and she couldn't help but smile.

It was true; Mimi had been off for a few days. The five after Halloween, to be precise, had been filled with long hours of the girl's moping and brooding, as though something dark teased her mind into an endless abyss of pain that Sora wasn't even able to pull her out of, let alone throw down a thread of gleaming hope.

She wasn't necessarily certain what had triggered her friend's sudden removal of the place, but it made her happy to see the happy glow around the girl once more.

Sipping her green tea, Sora saved her page and closed the magazine.

"Well, I must say that I'm glad you're doing better." She stood and gathered her dishes, placing them into the sink before grasping her friend's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I was worried that I might have to hire some crazy shrink to help you."

Lifting a hand to adjust her hair, which was in a perfect French twist, a rare occurrence for the girl, due to the constant waviness of her locks, Mimi smiled.

"Sora, you know that not all of us are crazy." She turned around as the kettle shrieked, and continued to speak as she prepared her tea in a thermos. "I was just preoccupied with a lot of things. Mostly work, to be honest. There's this damn patient who keeps canceling now, and it's got me worried."

Moving over to the table, picking up her mug, Sora sat on the wooden surface, crossing her jean-clad legs. "What's so wrong with somebody canceling? I get patients who cancel all of the time. Mostly it's because of conflicts with work or personal stuff, like family coming in and shit like that."

"Yeah, I understand that, but something keeps nagging me that it's more than just work." Mimi moved to the fridge to pull out an apple, yogurt, and a water bottle. "I don't know why, but it's just really weird. He didn't even list his occupation, for Kami's sake!"

Adjusting the long-sleeved turtleneck she wore, Sora arched a brow at her housemate before sipping more of her tea.

"You know, as well as I do, that some people like to keep their occupations private because they could either, A. get fired for going to seek professional help, or B. could have jobs that they just want to keep secret. I get people like that all of the time."

Placing the items into a small lunch bag, Mimi shrugged as she zipped it shut. "I know that. But this guy doesn't strike me at someone who has a job that fits in either of those situations. I don't even think he _has_ a job. He's claiming a lot of stuff on insurance, I mean a _lot_, and it's weird, because it's not an occupation-related insurance, and it's like he's from different companies, as well." She sighed heavily. "I don't know. I just find it weird."

The thin brow stayed arched as her lips pursed, Sora's eyes falling on the minute lunch bag on the counter. "Do _not_ telling me you're just going to eat _that_ for the day."

Mimi's eyes widened in surprised before they flitted to the bag on the counter. Meeting her friend's gaze, she smiled softly. "No, I'm probably going to order something small at work, too. Those are just my snacks."

As she began to gather her things, Mimi could feel Sora's eyes boring into her back. She didn't want to let her friend know that her eating habits had severely deteriorated in the past month, and that she was barely eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She could tell through her sudden weight loss and constant feelings of exhaustion.

But it wasn't necessarily her fault she wasn't hungry.

Right?

She couldn't do anything about it.

Right?

Flashing a smile at the girl who remained seated on the table, Mimi picked up her mug and began to walk towards the front door.

"Don't worry. I'm going to pick up something for breakfast, too," she said, reading Sora's mind.

"Okay, Meems. Just don't go back to your old habits, please. I don't want to deal with it again."

She turned around, facing Sora, who had seemed to materialize against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed as her chocolate gaze fell on Mimi's whiskey eyes.

Her pink painted lips curled into a brilliant smile, teeth flashing white, as she tugged on her boots and spun around, a strand of hair falling loose to tickle her cheek.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

'_I think…'_

* * *

"All right. So, let's get this straight." Her eyes fell on the pad of paper before her, one knee crossed over the other, a few more strands having fallen loose to play against her cheeks. "You've been constantly feeling these strange, aggressive emotions and urges, particularly when having sex, and you are afraid that you might end up hurting someone one day." Her eyes flitted to the man seated before her. 

He seemed to take up the entire chair, not because he built like an American football player, but because, along with the strong, stocky yet tall, build, he possessed this commanding aura about him, one that screamed strength, aggression, and some of the most fiery emotions of all, ranging from anger to intense fury.

This man screamed to be noticed and obeyed, from his short-cropped hair, down to his large feet. His eyes seemed to be almost alive with a flame that would have changed their colour from the richest brown to the brightest red imaginable.

His large head nodded in answer to the question in her eyes, and she glanced at the paper once more. "You also made a claim that you have been overly aggressive in bed lately, and have even found enjoyment in the mere idea of hurting someone. Correct?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, you're right."

Nodding slowly, she placed the paper on her desk, before looking up at the man. Shibayama Junpei was a strong-willed man, but she knew that she could easily reason with him.

"First off, I would like to tell you that having the urge to be aggressive during sexual intercourse is not at all a rare occurrence, and that most tend to give it the term of Domination. Domination is a slight branch off of what you say you're feeling, where the Dominator, either male or female, feels the urge to be aggressive in bed, and in command. They want to be in control.

"Also, some women, and yes, some men, enjoy feeling pain, and are classified under the term masochist, which means that they derive pleasure from pain. This is not a rare occurrence, either, and I believe that, if you chose to frequent the local BDSM clubs, you would find a wide range of women, and men, who would enjoy you being aggressive."

He slowly nodded his head, taking in the information, before going to speak. "I know all of this." She arched a brow. "It's just … I don't feel normal. You know? It's strange to think that I'm even here, talking to some stranger about my personal problems. I've tried those clubs, and, a lot of the times, I want to do more than what my partner's willing to let me do."

"Could you please explain a bit more? It would certainly help me understand a bit better."

He watched as she crossed her fingers, leaning forward, and fought the urge to look down the small opening in the front of her blouse. Kami-sama, she was gorgeous. He just wanted to tug her hair out of its bun and runs his fingers through it. He imagined it would be long, falling in waves past her shoulders to tumble to her firm buttocks. He would feel the silky texture just before he grasped it tight enough to make her cry, yanking her head back and exposing that deliciously long and pale throat of hers. He would bite it; bite hard enough to draw blood, and feel her pain as his own pleasure, reveling in the sweet taste of her cries of agony.

He would be hard, angry, and dispassionate, he would treat her like the useless slut she was, he would get her on her knees and force her mouth on him, he would shove her hard against the ground and fuck her until she cried for mercy.

He would cut her, make her bleed, bruise that delicately ivory flesh of hers, watch as the blue and black marks blossomed on her skin to mar its perfection.

But he couldn't. It was wrong. Something, deep down within him, told him that it was wrong to treat a woman like this. So he fought it, he fought the cravings to make her bleed and hurt, and he pushed them down inside of himself, where he hoped they could rot and wilt away.

But he knew that they were always there.

He swallowed thickly before replying, "I have … so many violent urges. It's a strange thing, isn't it? I guess it almost seems to suit my appearance, in a way. I admit that I am strong and big, and that I have this intimidating body, but I was always calm. I suppose a couple of years back, I moved back to my hometown, well, here, and that's when the urges started up. I never had the urges before then, not even as a child, before moving away.

"When I got back, I got a job, and started, you know, looking for a girl. It was lonely, living in my apartment all by myself, so I wanted some company." He smiled. "I'm allergic to most animals, so it was kind of hard to just go to the store and buy a pet, and I didn't have time to train one, either, so it was completely out of the question. Instead, I looked for a girlfriend.

"I was frequenting the same club for a while until I met her. We wound up back at her apartment and started, well, having sex. It started off all normal, but shortly into it, I started noticing that I really wanted to hurt her. This voice in my head kept telling me to treat her like some toy, that she wouldn't find it too painful, and she would eventually end up enjoying it. Of course, at the time, I didn't really question it. I started being more aggressive, and wound up hurting her."

"I hate to interrupt, but do you mind developing a bit as to _how_ you hurt her?"

"I … I grabbed her hair really hard, and I sort of bit her. I bit her shoulder real hard, and she kind of … cried out. I guess I cut her or something, 'cause I remember tasting blood. I grabbed her hips real tight, more than tight enough to bruise, now that I think about it, and she yelled and pushed me off. That's when I realized what I did, and I felt real bad. I just got up and left."

She watched the emotions play across his face, sheer, absolute shame glimmering in his dark eyes, while his lips formed a tight frown of anger directed towards him. He hated himself for what he had done; he felt that women ought to be treated with the same fairness and kindness men expect to be treated with. He knew that they were delicate, that most could not handle the same amount of strength as most men could, and that most would not enjoy a painful instead of pleasurable experience.

"First off, Shibayama-san, I would like to let you know, once more, than being overly aggressive during sexual intercourse is not terrible, and that some women do, in fact, enjoy it. I believe that the woman you were with at that time did not enjoy the mixture of pain and sex, and it most probably frightened her."

She glanced down at her notes, scrawled rapidly across a fresh piece of paper as he had retold his experience.

"You mentioned that it started up when you moved back here, your hometown. I know that this may seem rather quick to discuss this, but I would like to bring the subject up." She moistened her lips just the slightest bit, the pink tongue darting out to touch the pink lips. "It is very possible that, by returning home, some repressed memories were unearthed, and they brought about the aggression."

"You mean … some memory I tried to block is making me act this way?"

"It is very possible. Now, I hate to sound like the stereotypical view of a therapist, but I must insist that we discuss, albeit briefly, about your past. Just so that I can get a view of your childhood and see if there is anything that might indicate you would become abnormally aggressive in the future. Do you understand?"

"Y – yes. I suppose that I do." He sighed heavily, his big body heaving as his lungs inhaled and rapidly exhaled air. "I don't remember too much about my childhood, I believe it was quite normal. Normal, average education, a decent amount of friends, the usual teasing a kid gets in elementary and high school, and my family treated everybody with respect. They were all very nice to me, actually, and I don't remember them ever saying a mean thing or being violent towards me. I just remember their kindness."

"So, in short, you're saying that your family was always nice towards you, never mistreated you, never introduced violence in your lifestyle, correct?"

"Yes."

"All right. There is one possibility, but it's quite unlikely. It is very possible that, because you were rarely able to express aggression during childhood that it has mounted throughout the years, and now, since you're back home and remember bits of your childhood, it is finally coming out. But it is a very unlikely theory, and is quite rare. I, myself, have never handled such a case."

Tapping the pen to her lower lip, she fought the urge to chew on it and began going over all of the other possibilities, other reasons for why this man had suddenly developed such strong aggression.

Her eyes lit up.

"Shibayama-san, I hate to be the one to ask you this, but I would like to discuss the possible use of certain drugs."

He slowly nodded, confusion evident in his eyes.

"Specifically, the use of steroids."

"What the…? Why steroids? What do they have anything to do with aggression?" His perplexity was pure, and she realized that he had never made the link that steroids, in fact, did cause a several altered personality, leaning more towards aggression that calamity.

"Shibayama-san, most steroid users do have builds similar to yours, strong, muscular, and large. They do, also, begin to suddenly develop aggressive personalities where, beforehand, they were calmer and more relaxed. They develop the tendency to have sudden, aggressive and angry urges, even in the strangest, calmest of situations, and will sometimes lash out without warning. It is very possible that you could have taken steroids without knowing it. A friend could have been slipping them into your drinks, or even your parents or another family member. But I would like to insist that you answer my question truthfully."

"And that is?" Dread laced his voice.

"Have you ever, willingly and knowingly, taken steroids before, in your entire life?"

He let out a quiet curse, eyes glimmering brilliantly with sudden rage directed towards the woman he had, just moments ago, wanted to fuck senseless and lifeless. He fought back a primitive growl and clenched his fists, trying to calm himself to the best of his ability.

How dare she accuse him of something that would endanger, not only his current career, but also any career that followed? What right she have to ask such a thing?

"Shibayama-san, I would like to let you know that, if I you have taken steroids, I will not be notifying your current employer, and it will stay purely between us. We will, instead, work on ways to help you stop the use of the drugs, and calming methods that could help you ease your aggression."

He breathed deeply, trying to fight the urges. He didn't want to hurt her.

Please, Kami-sama, give him some sense of control.

* * *

She sighed heavily as she landed on the seat, her hair falling around her face as she leaned forward, her face in the palms of her hands, quite glad that the untying of her hair had helped ease some of her headache. 

Grasping the glass before her, she lifted her head and slowly sipped it; reveling in the smooth, cool taste of the water trickling down her throat. Closing her eyes, she leaned back in the booth, her head falling against the padded back as she felt the aching easing away.

She knew that she was dehydrated and that her body was most likely starving, but she just wasn't hungry. She _was_ thirsty, but, half of the time, she could barely give herself enough time to fill up her water bottle or a glass of water to bring with her to her computer.

Tachikawa Mimi's body was screaming for the nourishment she didn't have time to give it, and she knew that, someday soon, history would repeat itself.

"_Konnichiwa_, Mimi-kun!"

Opening her eyes, she glanced at the brunette that made her way to the booth, arching a brow. Sora only ever called Mimi, Mimi-kun, when she was in an extremely cheerful mood. Trailing behind Sora was a taller man, his milk-chocolate hair naturally spiky no matter what length it possessed, and his eyes matched the hair colour to the slightest hue, glimmering softly in the dim light of the restaurant.

Her eyes glowed softly in recognition. Motomiya Daisuke was the famous, 23-year-old owner of the world-renown restaurant she was currently seated in, Noodles, Noodles. She had been friends with the man since halfway through her senior year in high school, when she had, inadvertently destroyed his science fair project and she had profusely promised to help him repair it.

It was then that she discovered that, not only did he enjoy the same sexual style as her, but he was also a bisexual. However, he seemed to lean more towards women than men, which, in a way, saddened her because she had yet to meet a fully gay guy and go shopping with him. However, Daisuke, whom she liked to call Dai-kun, enjoyed shopping with her just as much as the next woman.

She watched as he tugged on his white shirt's collar, before adjusting his pants and sitting down in the booth before her. Sora slid in beside him, smiling broadly as she took her glass of water, Mimi having ordered two glasses upon her arrival, taking a great, big gulp of it.

"Look who I found!"

"I can see that, Sora. So, why did you drag poor Dai-kun all the way over here?"

Daisuke smiled, leaning back comfortably in the booth. "Actually, I invited myself over. I met up with Sora, and decided to grace you with my company." His grin broadened as Mimi rolled her eyes. "You know you love me."

Laughter bubbled lightly from her throat and her eyes glowed brilliantly.

"Of course, Dai-kun. So, tell me, what's been going on in your life?"

He briefly told the waitress who passed by what he would have to drink, before turning back towards the brunette seated across from him. His eyes darted over her appearance and worry filled his mind. She smiled, but her eyes lacked the bright glow they possessed just a mere month ago. Her skin was paler, the veins standing out vividly on her hands, her wrists smaller, looking far more frail than he remembered them appearing. The circles under her eyes were crudely hidden, still quite evident through the make-up placed on her face.

She looked tired, worn out, and as though she needed a good year off to relax and enjoy life.

He knew that if he mentioned his worries now, Sora would instantly leap at her, and start lecturing her about taking care of herself. He knew that Mimi disliked hearing Sora's lectures, no matter how smart they were, or how right Sora was.

So, he forced himself to push back the worries gnawing at his mind and planned to talk to Mimi about her current status in private, away from prying eyes and ears.

"Ah, nothing too much. I got a franchise set up in Kyoto now, a few more in the Osaka region, and I even got offers from, believe it or not, China, to set up a few places in Hong Kong. Crazy, eh?"

"Ah, sounds like you're doing pretty good for yourself. Good job with all of that." She sipped her water. "So, was truly brings you over to this table aside from irritating us with your oh-so amazing presence?"

He pursed his lips in reaction, before childishly sticking his tongue out at her. "I don't irritate you and you know it." He crossed his arms, thanking the waitress before returning to speak to his companions. "If you must know, I was wondering what the two of you were doing tonight."

"Dai-kun, you know I'm dating somebody," Sora teased, laughter bubbling in her voice. "And you know that Mimi isn't interested in women."

A blush darkened on his cheeks, and Sora grinned broadly, knowing fully well that Daisuke had always possessed this crush on Mimi. He had once told her that he wished she could join him and his Domme in a threesome one day, or even a foursome with himself, his Domme, and the other Sub Domme shared with him. But, he knew that Mimi wasn't interested in sex with women, and was also a Sub, and least likely to join them in a foursome.

He would have to at least work on a threesome.

For now, he had a different proposition for both women.

"I was wondering, seeing as they're having a special Ladies' Night tonight, if you two wanted to come by Cruella's with me. It's been a while since we've gone there as a group, seeing as you two seem to like Erotika's a bit more." He grinned. "So, how about it? We all taxi together, or find a responsible driver, and go down to Cruella's for about ten tonight?"

"Half price on the drinks?"

Mimi laughed, knowing that Sora would attack him with immediate questions about drink prices.

"For women, only. Everything's half price, not just the drinks, but room rentals, and everything." He winked. "But, of course, the two of your have BDSM Membership cards, so the rooms' are free anyways."

"Very true." Mimi glanced over to Sora. "And, I shouldn't worry about meeting up with _him_ there, either."

"Him?"

The conversation took a brief pause as they made their orders, Daisuke frowning visibly when Mimi ordered a small miso soup and nothing else. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knew that she was starving herself, and he needed to get a private conversation in as soon as he could.

Sora frowned as their conversation went back to where it was before the interruption, brows furrowing as she fought to figure out just who 'he' was.

"So, tell me who _he_ is."

Sighing softly, Mimi looked down at her glass of water, playing with the straw, causing the ice to clink softly against the glass.

"You know … the … Lieutenant." She whispered the word, almost as though she feared the simple utterance of the word would make him appear out of thin air.

The frown deepened and perplexity shone in Daisuke's eyes. He wanted to question her, but decided that Sora would get all of the details out in a manner that would let him understand the scenario.

"You're talking about Ishida-san, right? Taichi's coworker and the guy who hired you to work on the cases, right?" Daisuke raised a brow at Sora's words. "What about him?" She suddenly jerked forward, her hand landing on Mimi's softly despite her suddenly aggressive posture. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? What happened?"

Smiling softly, Mimi looked Sora in the eyes and saw the raw concern in them. She knew that she should have told Sora everything when she first found out the truth, but the guilt of having gone behind the man's back, and the sheer pain that followed the truth still hurt.

Heaving a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned back, keeping her hand under Sora's warm one, reveling in the feeling of friendly warmth that trickled up her arms towards her heart.

Slowly, the ice shield she had placed days before began to melt.

"We … we ended up … sort of hooking up on Halloween." She smiled in spite of herself, remembering the feel of his hot, hard and ready body pressed up against hers. The feel of his lips crushing down on hers, his tongue tangling with hers in a wild, fiery dance of lust that never ceased, it all made her heart pound against her chest as the memories bathed her mind.

"We … we were interrupted … and it gave me time to think. A while back, he told me that he wasn't into the BDSM community, that he was doing it as an act … he's undercover. He said that he was just pretending." She felt tears well in her eyes, and she fought them back with a mercilessly savage attack. "So … I got to thinking … and figure that, he didn't really want me at all, not even my body. He was just … acting."

"Oh, Mimi…" Sora's voice broke off on an audible yet soft sob.

"So … so, I ended up asking Jyou for a favour…"

"Jyou? You mean Kido Jyou? The owner of the clubs?"

"Yes. We spoke shortly after … he gave me stuff to give to the cops, but it's irrelevant. Anyways … I went to him and asked for the … Lieutenant's records. His history in the community."

She choked back a sob and fell forward, letting her face fall into her hands. "Goddammit Sora. Why do men lie all of the time? He does frequent the goddamn clubs. He fucking goes there every goddamn Friday and Saturday night, and every night he chooses a different woman. So why the fuck would he lie to me? It doesn't make sense! Why tell me he's undercover when he's actually not?" A few tears trickled free.

"I don't even know why it hurts." She choked the words through the sobs bubbling up her throat, threatening to swallow her whole. "It just does. I'm so confused … was it really an act? Why did he feel the urge to lie to _me_? Me, out of all of the goddamn people in the world! He knows that I can keep a secret; he hired me for that purpose. So why the fuck does he feel that lying to me is better? Goddammit, I'm so fucking confused."

She felt the seat shift beside her and fell into the warmth of the woman's embrace, letting her head fall on Sora's shoulder. She didn't care if people could see her sobbing, she didn't give a damn if her mascara ran down her face and stained her cheeks with black tears. She didn't care about anything but finding out the truth.

She didn't even know why it meant so much to her.

'_I think … I think it's because … I might … need him…or … or … love him…'_

"Mimi-kun, please don't stress yourself out because of one man." Sora's voice was soft against her hair, a warm breath that teased the locks and made her eyes flutter open. Daisuke had managed to crawl under the table and was on her other side, leaning against her, his head on her shoulder as he rubbed her back.

Sora's thumb rubbed on the back of Mimi's palm, her eyes gazing into the whiskey orbs that overflowed with tears.

"Please, Mimi-kun. He's not worth your time. To be honest, he probably lied because he felt that his job was at stake. Maybe he felt that, if his Commander found out, he might be removed from the case because it would seem personal. I don't know … you'll have to ask him the question yourself. But, darling, you're starving yourself because of one stupid man."

Daisuke smiled at Sora's words, before tilting Mimi's head so she could face him. "Sora's right, you know. She makes perfect sense. Obviously, this guy has his own issues to deal with, and right now, you're letting his problems become yours. You're stressing yourself enough with work and all of this extra stuff, and you're letting these thoughts about a man, who obviously doesn't care about your opinion, hurt you whenever you have alone time. You need to take a moment to breathe deep, relax, and remind yourself that he has his own problems to deal with, and you're not supposed to help him unless he asks for help.

"You take on too much at once, and let too much hurt you in ways that they shouldn't hurt you. I don't want you to make yourself sick over something as little as this. So what if he lied? I bet he's lied a million times in his lifetime, just like you, me, and every other person out there. To be honest, I do not think it was meant to be a personal blow to you, or that it was done to hurt you. You have to ask him why he did it, and go from there."

Sora kissed the top of Mimi's head while Daisuke placed his forehead against hers.

He smiled.

"And, while I'm at it, this is the perfect opportunity to advertise. Tonight, you will take the night to relax, dance, and fuck with some of the hottest guys ever, at Cruella's. Everything's half price, not that it really matters to you." He winked. "So, how about it? Up for a relaxing night of sex, dancing, and more sex?"

Sora smiled broadly, her chin digging just the slightest into Mimi's head. "Don't forget the booze."

Wiping away at her tears, she sniffled softly before slowly nodding. It would be good to get away, to not think about anything painful or remember any memories that hurt. It would be nice to be able to act like she could before everything had happened.

Before she realized that she loved someone who could not possibly love her back.

* * *

She walked through the bar, her stiletto heels clicking softly on the ground, although she could not hear them through the loud, pounding music of Dir en Grey's Kodou. It was the perfect song for her, rising in a perfect melody of drums, bass, and guitar, and Kyo's vocals were absolutely perfect on the song. Deep and passionate, yet loud and screaming with the same strength her heart screamed for redemption. 

She reveled in the feel of the air passing across the exposed skin of her legs, the vinyl pants laced on both sides from her hips down, exposing triangles of flesh. Her stomach was bare, her back exposed just as much, the top she wore cutting into a V at her breasts, before forming another V where the top one ended, opening immediately at the base of her sternum to wrap around her back.

Moving her body to the music as she made her way into the crowd, she fingered a strap slightly, adjusting it just a bit so that it was tugging too much on the collar at her throat that it was attached to. She fingered, then, the empty silver loop, making sure that it caught the light in a way that attracted those around her.

Tonight, she wanted to be fucked, and fucked hard.

Raising her arms, she found Sora dancing with Daisuke, both clad in skintight leather outfits, and smiled at Takeru and Hikari.

Takeru reminded her a blond, shorter version of Yamato, only, his eyes were laced with green, his body was leaner, and his hair was far shorter. Also, they were far from related.

Hikari, on the other hand, happened to be Taichi's younger sister, at 24, she was younger by a total of three years, and, yet, at times she showed a maturity beyond even Taichi's age at 27.

Then again, even Mimi, at 25, showed such maturity.

Her shoulder-length, brown hair was tugged up into a ponytail, while her brown eyes glowed, surrounded by faint gold and white shadows and paints. Her small, lithe body was covered in a pink, vinyl outfit that glued itself to her curvy form, enhancing her small breasts and increasing the length of her legs.

Purposely teasing Daisuke, rubbing her body up against his, she chuckled softly in his ear before turning around, smiling at the group. She had felt him tense against her, and nearly heard the groan that had escaped his lips as her breasts as pressed up against his back.

Still smiling at the group, she danced, her arms moving in the air, body twisting and turning erotically to call all single men to her and beg for her to suck and fuck their hardened cocks.

It wasn't long before she felt warm arms wrap around her waist, and a hot breath gasp hot, passionate words against her ear.

It wasn't his voice.

Turning around in the arms of the stranger, she smiled seductively at the man, her eyes focusing on his dark ones, before trailing over his face, taking in the strong jaw, and the long, ear-length, black hair that fell in waves. His skin was tanned just the slightest, and murmured appreciatively as he leaned forward to nibble at her throat, his whiskers adding a sensual touch of friction to his touch.

They danced together, their bodies moving against one another's, their hips grinding against each other's as their eyes never looked away. Her arms twined around his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands landed on her buttocks, urging her hips harder against his.

Their lips touched.

He watched them through the crowd and spat out thousands of curses, aiming them directly towards the tall, dark and handsome man sweeping the girl off of her feet. He didn't know why he felt so hurt, so terribly enraged by the site of her with another man, but it made his heart tear in two and his mind swirl with millions of images.

Most specifically, images of the man on the ground and dead.

He felt a growl rise up and explode out his throat as rage consumed him, sheer, absolute, unadulterated jealousy fill him as the man lead her away from the crowd, heading straight towards the rooms.

He felt the pain sear through his body, straight from his heart, spreading through him in his veins, burning every inch of skin that covered the boiling rage and agony. It hurt him to watch her take another man into his arms, it made him feel like the world was collapsing around him, as though there would be nothing left to live for if he saw their lips touch one more time.

He nearly fell to his knees in pain as she smiled at the man, he could hear her laughter bubbling in his mind as her lips moved, pursing low, sensual, seductive, in an erotic voice he had once become victim to. He watched as her hands trailed over her body, the same way he wanted to trail his over her, and watched as the man grasped her by the back of the head and crush his lips to hers.

The beast, the animal, within him wanted to roar to the high heavens, to spin around and shatter every single item within the club until she finally paid the slightest attention to him.

Until she realized that he was for her.

She was _his_. Nobody else's but _his_!

Growling, feeling like some predator on the prowl, he slanted his eyes in their direction, watching as they disappeared towards the rooms.

He'd be damned if he let his property go.

"Ah … oh, Shinya, wow." Giggles burst from her throat as she felt him grasp her breasts through the vinyl material. "Oh, please, wait until we've gotten to the room."

He leaned his head on her shoulder, growling in her ear, his breath hot on her throat, sending shivers racing down her spine. "I don't think I'll be able to wait. I'm going to fuck you so hard you're going to scream. You're going to be begging just to suck my dick and have me come all over your face."

His ministrations had only stopped briefly, when she had asked to register for a room from the guard, before they headed off to find the room reserved for them.

Stumbling slightly, she glanced at the numbers, wondering if this was their room.

His hand landed sharply on her buttocks, and she fought back a moan of desire as pain and pleasure coursed through her.

Turning around, gesturing for him to calm down, she fumbled with the doorknob, before opening it.

Moans hit their ears and she stood there, aghast, at the sight before them.

Hikari stood tall and proud over the two men on their knees before her, one with his mouth latched onto her crotch, licking, and purring against the sensitized skin, while the other toyed with the man's erection, licking it and rubbing it until it seemed to further increased in width and length.

Mimi felt heat pool between her thighs at the sight of Daisuke licking and teasing Hikari, while Takeru groaned against Dai's obvious sign of joy. Hikari had her head thrown back, purring from her throat, whispering words of encouragement to the boys on their knees in front of her.

At the sound of the door opening, Takeru turned away from Daisuke, and his eyes widened at the sight of Mimi and Shinya standing in the doorway.

"I … uh … have fun!" Mimi attempted a bright smile before slamming the door shut, spinning around to face Shinya, gasping for air from embarrassment, arousal, and laughter.

Shinya leaned against her, pressing his body against her, letting her feel his erection pressed against her stomach. "Let's go find _our_ room."

Nodding shakily, rather confused as to how she had just become further aroused by the scenario in the room, she let him lead her to their room.

Once in the chamber, she only had a chance to glance around briefly at the big, four poster bed in the center of the room, and the shackles on the wall, before he was on her, shoving her against the wall, his mouth on hers in a passionate, wild kiss that sent her senses reeling with need.

No … it was want. Not need.

Need was far stronger.

Her top was instantly on the ground, his mouth teasing her nipples into tight, aching peaks, before he took her breasts in his hands, squeezing sharply, digging his short nails into the flesh.

His teeth found her throat, and she moaned in delight as his tongue flicked over the sensitive skin. The sensation of her breasts rubbing against the silk shirt he wore sent electric shocks of desire pulsing throughout her entire body, and she moaned with delight.

"Oh … Shinya. I thought you said that you were going to fuck me, not ravish me!"

"I'm getting to it."

She felt him back her up slowly, and, having been completely unaware to her surroundings, she felt the slightest bit of surprise as her wrists were shackled above her head.

The surprise in her eyes slowly died down to pure, sensual arousal, and she pursed her lips at him.

"Mmm…I can't wait."

He pursued them like a lion on the chase for food he had not had in months, ready to shove all those in his way out of his path, ready to kill anybody who dared protest him and attempt to stop him in his steps.

He refused to be stopped.

She was _his_.

Stalking through the crowd, he found the guard in charge of the rooms, and resisted grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall in an attempt to use brute force to get what he wanted.

Instead, he took in a deep breath and did something that hurt him to do.

He smiled.

"Hi, I was wondering if you saw my girlfriend go by."

Girlfriend. Kami-sama, saying that word fucking hurt.

The guard arched a brow in confusion, frowning at the man before him. "Girlfriend? I get a lot of girls who go into the rooms. A lot of guys also, so you'll have to be specific."

"She goes by the name Mimi. She came by not long ago, used a membership pass to get a room. She forgot to tell me which room number she would be in; I went to get some condoms."

The guard slowly nodded, yet the suspicion remained in his dark eyes. Frowning down at the paper before him, he glanced over the list of people, and Yamato couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of triumph as the man barely questioned Yamato's demands.

"Ah, she's in room number 4. Went in not long ago, maybe about ten minutes…"

"Thanks."

Spinning around, he rushed down the rooms, searching for the number that indicated where his property was being held.

He didn't even know why he was calling her his, there was just something about it that he enjoyed. He felt like the first moment his lips had fallen on hers, that she would forever be his and nobody else's. It hurt him so much to watch her fall in the arms of another man and become victim to that man's wiles and seductive words.

Arriving at the door, he didn't wait a moment before knocking. As soon as the door opened a crack, he flung himself in, growling angrily at the man standing before him.

She stood there, shackled to the wall, whispering words of pleasure and his eyes fell to the vibrator pressing against the juncture between her legs.

A louder growl of rage filled him as he faced the man, the tall, dark-haired man who attempted to steal and claim _his_ property.

At the sound of his growls, her eyes flung open, brought instantly out of her ecstasy induced high, throwing her harshly onto the ground of reality as she saw the tall, blond Adonis standing in front of the man for her evening.

Her eyes widened as Yamato stalked towards the man, and she not longer felt the pleasure derived from the vibrator, instead feeling utter, absolute dread fill her as she noted Yamato's predatory walk, knowing fully well that Yamato wanted to kill.

"You bastard. How dare you fucking _think_ that she will be yours!" He moved closer to Shinya as the brunet backed away, arms raised, looking rather silly in his leather pants and arms in the air.

"What gives you the goddamn right to treat her like this? What gives you fucking right to think that she really _needs_ you? Sure, she fucking wants you, but are you sure that she really _needs_ you? Do you hear her calling out your fucking name as she comes? What gives you the fucking right to hear her calling _your_ name as she comes around your cock?"

Her eyes widened and she fought against the shackles holding her arms to the ceiling, jerking violently, not caring if they hurt her. She just wanted out before Yamato got close enough to kill.

"She's _mine_."

She would have heard the words if it weren't for the constant clinking of the shackles, the iron digging into her flesh, bruising her pale skin. She watched as he cornered Shinya, and she let out a cry.

"Stop! Stop it, Ishida! Stop this very fucking instant!"

He spun around, his eyes falling on her half-nude form, before he stalked over to her, his movement liquid and sensual, yet ever so much like a predator.

Swallowing thickly, she continued to fight against the shackles, trying to maneuver her hand through the holes, to slip, at least just one, out of its hold. Panic raced through her as he reached her, his eyes taking a full moment to take in the image of her bare breasts before looking up at her face.

Her heart pounded against her ribs and she whimpered despite herself, having gone completely numb with fear, absolutely forgetting about the vibrator pressed against her.

He ripped it away from her and threw it across the room, his growl increasing in volume, nearing very much a roar of anger that would fill the room and make the windows shake.

Without thinking about it, he unchained her and watched as she fell to the ground in a slump. Quickly, she ignored the faint pain in her legs and the stronger pain in her wrists; she stood up, covering her breasts with her arms.

This time, it was her turn to be angry.

"What the _fuck_ gives you the goddamn right to barge in on _my_ time?" She spun around, searching for her top, and continued to shout as she pulled it on. "Why the fuck do you think you have _any_ right, whatsoever, to just fucking come in and start yelling at him? I'm not your fucking girlfriend, I'm not your property, I'm just the bitch you hired because you couldn't do your job right!" She marched forward, slamming her finger harshly into his sternum.

"Why the fuck do you think it's all right for you to come running in here as though I'm being killed? Why the fuck do you believe I'd be okay with you doing this? With you coming and trying to destroy something that was mine? What's the fucking matter with you?"

His hands grabbed her shoulders, and they became oblivious to the fact that Shinya had snuck out of the room, hiding amongst the crowd outside as they danced and pumped to the beat of the music.

He pulled her forward, his fingers bruising her exposed skin and he moved his face closer to hers, wanting her to see the sheer, raw rage and need that filled his eyes.

"You could have been fucking killed. Or did you forget that there's a killer on the loose, searching for Subs with your fucking description?"

She jerked back, physically shaken by what he had just shouted at her. Her description? Did they all really look that much like her?

Her lips formed a frown as she thought over the words he had just screamed at her. It was impossible that the killer could be after her in particular; there were so many women in Japan who looked just like her.

This was probably another one of his lies to get her closer to him, to make her more under his control, when what she wanted, deep down, was to be away from him, despite the need within her that screamed for her to fall under his embrace.

"Ishida, I can never tell when you're telling the truth or lying anymore." Her words were whispered, harsh and cruel, aimed to maim his heart. "You've lied enough to me already, you'd think it'd be easier for you to tell me the damn truth."

Cursing him, she spun around and marched out of the room, unable to hear his thoughts as he contemplated her words.

'_Oh, Mimi, but telling you the truth would be so much harder…'_

She rushed out of the building, ignoring Sora's protests as she marched by the girl, grabbing her purse from the coat check before stalking out into the street. It was dark, the lamps were dimly glowing in the darkness of midnight, and the streets were quite empty, which was a rarity in downtown Tokyo.

She stalked out into the parking lot, heading towards the street where she would hail the taxi from under the light of a lamp. She wanted to get out of the darkness that had suddenly bathed her and feel far less exposed despite the fact that, in being under the light, she would be more so.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, the grip hard, bruising her already battered flesh, and her lips curled into an angry scowl.

"Ishida, I swear on Kami, I going to fucking…"

She stopped short.

Her brain took a while to register why she had just stopped speaking, but it suddenly ran into overdrive as she realized just why her speech had suddenly left her.

The glint of the blade pressed against her throat was the cause.

**So, how'd you guys like it? I somewhat enjoyed writing this. I know there aren't as many details in this one as the others, but I suppose I can't always be so detailed. There was just so much happening in this one that I only had time to explain, briefly, how they felt.**

**First off: Thanks a whole bunch to Queen of Pirates for noting every single error in my previous chapter. Thank you so much for noting them and giving me the corrections. I really appreciate it.**

**For that, you get a piece of Key Lime Pie, again.**

**Mrs-Ishida-to-You also wins a piece of Key Lime Pie because she kindly noted a few name-errors in my Chapter 6. Thanks a whole bunch! I appreciate it!! . I'll be sure to remember that from now on! **

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews, I truly appreciate them. Yet again (I will stop repeating this after now), please, if you see any errors, feel free to tell me in your review and I will correct them as soon as I can. **

**Thanks so much for everything!**

**My review/posting rule is still and will always be in effect.**

**Ja ne!**

**P.S. Just to let you know, I have already written the Lemon scene, which is coming up soon. I just won't tell you when!**


	13. Nightmarish Reality

**Chapter 13**

**Nightmarish Reality **

Everything stopped. Time, movement, everything in the entire Universe came to a screeching halt when the light caught the glint of silver in the air. Her heart ceased to beat, her lungs screaming for the air they seemed to be unable to receive.

The only thing that moved were her eyes, bright, white, and wide in the darkness, darting about, searching for something that screamed salvation and protection in the surrounding darkness.

She felt the body behind her, tall, yet shorter than her due to her heels, but stronger, far stronger. She felt his breath on her throat, hot, warm, sticky, and reeking of alcohol as it shuddered past her ear, reaching her nose.

Bile rose up in her throat, slowly, the reality fading until mere memories became unearthed. Her body began to quaver in fear, the glow of her eyes increasing in brightness as terror filled them, overwhelming her senses.

She attempted to gasp, slowly, quietly for air, and fought back a whimper as the blade dug against her throat, nearing pain as it slid slowly across her flesh. Everything happened in slow motion, she took in a breath of air, and, slowly, she was thrown to the ground, weight pressing on her lower back as the blade found its way back to her throat, her head yanked back, her hair grasped in a terrifyingly strong grip.

This time, the whimper did come out, and it was quite loud.

Reaching for a way to free her arms from under her body, she squirmed slightly against her attacker, trying to find a way to give herself some sort of leverage in the situation.

Panic raced through her as her hand scraped against glass, the pressure on her increasing to near pain, almost as though he knew what she attempted and he didn't intend to let her go.

She felt the memories flood her mind, taking her back to the dank, damp room miles above the ground, the dust fluttering in the air, the chairs broken, windows shattered, and the smell of his foul, putrid breath against her face as he jerked over her.

As he …

She choked back the bile that had nearly filled her throat, pushing it back as she fought back the memories, knowing fully well that if she succumbed to them, she would be weak and useless, she would be unable to fend for herself in the situation.

Ignoring the pain racing from her palm, she slid her hands up, and used them to lift herself back, her head slamming sharply against his face with a sickening crack.

She felt the blade jerk against her throat and gasped softly as she felt pain trickle from her flesh, feeling warm blood sliding down her skin. Fighting back the pain, she jerked wildly against him, digging her elbows into his stomach, fighting to free herself so she could pick up the purse she had dropped just a few feet away.

Scrambling out from under him as she head-butted him a second time, she half-crawled half-ran towards the discarded purse, rushing to make her way there before he could get to his feet and attack her a second time.

The air rushed out of her lungs as she was slammed to the ground a second time, winding her, making her gasp for air in loud pants as she continued to fight him, biting at his hands, clawing at his arms, doing whatever she could to get out from his control.

Hissing with pain, she felt his fist slam hard against her ribs, and she fought harder, knowing that if she didn't keep fighting, she would wind up raped and dead.

"You stupid bitch … you're mine. You're fucking mine."

She nearly stopped at his hissed words if it weren't for instinct telling her to keep going on. She jerked her arm high up, before aiming her elbow with the best of her ability, before slamming it against his face.

As he howled, she shouted at him, "I'm not yours!"

Jerking away, she flung herself at her purse, quickly and efficiently pulling out the pepper spray and Taser she constantly kept on her since the happenings of two years ago.

Just as she spun around, ready to fight, he flung himself on her, pressing her hand against the ground, his knee slamming itself between her thighs, bruising her sensitive flesh.

Letting out a cry, she fought against him, not once thinking about looking him straight in the face. She just wanted to get free.

"You fucking bitch," he spat, his face lowering itself to hers, "I'm going to fuck you and kill you, you fucking whore."

She paused as she felt his erection pressing against her thigh, and that one moment where all action stopped gave him an advantage. His knee ground hard against her, while his free hand grasped hold of her already bruised wrists, pressing hard on the wounded flesh, making her cry out with alarm.

Her weapons fell to the ground.

She did the only thing she could.

Sucking in a breath, ignoring the stinging pain at her throat from the cut, she inhaled as much air as she could.

She held it for a moment before she did what she should have done from the beginning.

She screamed.

* * *

Sora rushed through the crowd, panic racing through her veins as she fought to find Mimi amongst the dancers, searching valiantly, yet in vain, as she pushed people out of the way, her eyes darted everywhere as the panic overwhelmed her. 

Mimi had left in such a furious rush, stomping angrily out, followed by a just-as-angry Yamato, blushing vividly with rage, fists clenched tightly.

She didn't know where Mimi had gone, but she needed to find her, because something deep down told her that something just wasn't right.

Pushing as many people as she could out of the way, she shoved her way through the crowd, grabbing a hold of Tai's arm as she found her lover.

"Tai!" She gasped for air as she spoke, her heart slamming against her chest. "Have you … seen Mimi?"

"Uh, no, why?" Taichi had turned around at her words, and she noted the man who had held Tai's attention.

"Ishida!" She pounced on the man, eyes flashing with rage. "What the hell have you done to her?"

With the rage still boiling in his veins, it took him seconds to let it overcome his senses once more at her accusations. How dare she even consider the fact that he could have harmed Mimi? How dare she even speak the notion of it!

"Me? What the fuck did _I_ do?" He stepped forward, pushing Taichi out of the way. "I wasn't the one taking a fucking stranger to a room, when there's a goddamn killer out there!" He gestured to the dancing throng, who moved mindless of the argument arising by the bar. "She's the one who took this fucking _stranger_ to a room, where she could be exposed, to fucking … _fuck_ him! Does she have no goddamn sense of reason?"

Sora stepped forward, her eyes flashing, finger stabbing into his chest, mimicking the same action Mimi had done just a few minutes ago.

"What gives you the goddamn right to decide what she can or can't do? You're just a fucking cop! You barely know the girl! How dare you believe that you have any right to have a say in what she does?"

He growled, and snarled out his next words, "The fucking bitch fits their description perfectly, or are you fucking blind. I'm telling you, the guy's after her!"

"And I'm telling you that you are fucking crazy."

With that, she swirled around, stomping off into the crowd, her blood boiling, splashing over into the rest of her body, causing the rage to make her vision go red and her mind to succumb to the aches and pains of the sheer, agonizing anger that filled her.

Shoving a man out of her way, she barked for her items from the coat check, and rushed out of the club, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.

She stopped in her tracks as she heard the scream, before breaking out in an all-out run.

"Mimi!"

* * *

Taichi rubbed his face with his hands, cursing everything he knew that existed. Why did this one night have to be so fucked up? He had originally planned on surprising Sora; Hikari had told him that they would be going to Cruella's that night. So why did everything end up so screwed up? 

Because Yamato had insisted on coming as well, noting that Cruella's was supposed to be the next target, according to the pattern they had developed.

He knew, deep down, that Yamato had been hoping to see Mimi again, and was hoping to, at least, attempt to reconcile things between them.

Instead, it had just screwed things up even more, and now Sora was pissed and Mimi was missing.

Sighing heavily, he lifted his face from his hands, watching as Yamato sat rigidly on the chair, eyes flashing violently with a rage that threatened to spill over and consume all those around him, as well as himself.

Standing up, Taichi sighed again, before glancing a second time towards Yamato.

"I'm going to find Sora and apologize. I suggest you do the same so that way the entire world isn't pissed at you."

With the words spoken, he walked away before Yamato could say another word, heading towards the door, knowing fully well that Sora, when pissed off, needed to feel cool air on her skin and inhale the sweet, nightly scent of the world bathed in darkness.

Mentioning to the guard that he would be coming back, he stepped out into the darkness, looking around him for signs that Sora was nearby.

"Mimi!"

His eyes darted towards him as she saw Sora rushing towards a strange figure lying on the ground, jerking violently, almost as though it were punching the asphalt beneath it.

His heart skipped a beat.

Tugging his cell phone out of his pocket, he sprinted towards Sora, forcefully pushing her to the ground, telling her quickly not to move, before his made his way towards the entwined figures.

Mimi gasped for air, her nails reaching upwards to claw at the face of her attacker, letting out a shriek of rage as his fist landed in her stomach, before she reared up, slamming her knee into his groin.

He let out a wail of pain, and the blade flashed into her line of vision, causing every bodily function to cease its actions and come to a grinding halt. Time froze as the blade lifted itself in the air, and descended down at her chest.

She screamed like she had never screamed before, fighting like she had never fought before, trying to move out of the way of the blade as fast as she could.

Managing to roll despite his weight pressing down on her, she felt a faint pain radiate from her arm before she heard her name.

The man paused in his actions, his head darting up to look around quickly, before the weight was removed from her body and she heard his footsteps disappear in the darkness.

Sighing heavily, she let her head fall back on the ground, closing her eyes as she willed her breathing to relax.

"Mimi? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes slowly fluttered open as she heard the familiar male voice, laced with concern and worry, and found his chocolate eyes staring down into her whiskey orbs. Slowly, she smiled softly, her heart finally returning to its normal rate, her breathing finally achieving a proper sense of order and balance.

"Taichi … "

He grasped her uninjured hand and helped her slowly into a sitting position, before moving to sit behind her, letting her lean on him as he finished dialing the number he had begun to compose just moments before.

He heard the heels click as Sora made her way over to Mimi, looking irritated with Taichi, yet glad at the same time. It just went to show how much Taichi cared for her and Mimi.

Sora kneeled beside the girl, using her cell phone light to look into Mimi's eyes, searching for any signs of shock. Holding the girl's uninjured hand in her own; she stroked the back of Mimi's palm with her thumb, oblivious to the tears that streamed down her face.

"Mimi … are you all right?"

Slowly, the brunette nodded, before making an attempt to stand on her own. Tai's arm around her waist stopped her from moving, while Sora blocked the girl, giving her little room to be able to stand up straight without making a fool of herself.

"Mimi, please stay seated. Give your body a chance to recollect itself, all right? I need to check you for injuries, hon."

Making an attempt to push Sora aside and stand, Mimi smiled as she triumph, despite how she was just slightly wobbly on her feet. Brushing her hair out of her face, she smiled down at her friends.

"I told you, I'm okay. Just … shaken up, I suppose."

Taichi ignored her words as he spoke rapidly to the person on the other end, at one point needing to shout before the person couldn't hear him well. He told about Mimi's injuries, and mentioned that they should get her back to the police station and call their preferred medic.

Just as Taichi hung up, ready to state that somebody was on their way, Mimi jerked visibly as warms arms encased her body, a head burrowed against her hair as her face was pressed against a familiarly muscular chest.

Her head was tilted back and she looked into the blue eyes, blue orbs that were filled with raw concern for her, worry that made her stomach wrench with pain as she thought about just how much it must have hurt him to hear the news.

She wanted to stay angry at him, to slap him and push him away, but she couldn't bring herself to do it when she saw, even it if was just an inkling of it, the truth in his eyes.

He truly did care about her.

"Yamato…"

* * *

"Aya! Damn, Sora, that friggin' hurts!" 

"I'll bet it does, but I want to help, and I'm doing it by removing all of this damn glass from your hand. You do realize that you're probably going to need stitches?"

"I don't want any goddamn stitches. The needle's going to hurt even more, and I'll be damned it I walk around with a freakin' bandage on my hand for the next couple of weeks."

"Mimi, if you keep protesting, I'm going to ask Koichi-san for something that I can sedate you with. Is that something you really want, or at you going to calm the fuck down?"

She threw her head back against the wall of the questioning room, closing her eyes, willing herself to deal with the pain that trickled from her hand each time Sora removed another shard of glass.

"I'm going to kill you…really fucking soon. Like, maybe within the next ten minutes, Taichi's going to come in here and find your dead body on the ground." Mimi fought back a growl of pain as Sora viciously tugged out another shard.

"That's very nice, Mimi, knowing that after Tai and I saved your life, you plan on killing us."

"Not everybody, just you." She winced as Sora tugged a rather large piece of glass from her palm, and fought back the tears that instantly welled in her eyes from the agonizing torture she was suffering.

Not that it was that horrible; it was simply more irritating to have to suffer through the painstakingly slow procedure of having every little piece of glass removed from her hand. She had to admit it; she was irritated, cranky, and extremely sexually frustrated, and having to sit through a lengthy period of time with someone poking at her injured hand did not make things any better.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to think about anything other than the current situation, or what had happened just an hour ago. She fought back a smile; lately, she seemed to have been finding herself at this bloody police station early in the morning. She couldn't help but wonder if Taichi ever had to go in as early as 1 AM because of some thing or another.

Sighing heavily, she listened as a door opened and shut, and instinctively knew that Yamato and Taichi had just entered the conference room turned medical center.

Opening an eye, she watched as the two men moved towards them, her sight falling completely on only one of them.

His soft lips were curled into a tight, almost furious, scowl, and he strode forward with a powerful sense of determination that actually made fear uncoil in her stomach and begin to spread through her body. His eyes were set on her, but she saw that they were still focusing on the past, when he had found her outside, bloodied, cut, bruised, and shaking from the shock of the near death experience.

It made her want to lock herself away, safe from all of the evils in the world, just to keep this grim look of concern, pain, and guilt off of his face for the remainder of eternity.

Sora moved to leave, having finally removed all of the glass, but Taichi gestured for her to stay in room.

"You can stay, Sora-kun, we just have a few questions to ask Mimi, and while we're doing that, you can finish cleaning her injuries."

Nodding, the short-haired girl pulled out a damp towel and began dabbing at Mimi's palm, using the simple combination of water and soap instead of antiseptic; more things like rubbing alcohol only caused future problems for injuries, whereas, soap and water truly washed away the bacteria.

She had already sent in a test for any blood contamination, and had been quite surprised that she had gotten the results rather quickly. Mimi was clean, which was extremely fortunate since she had been cut by, not just a beer bottle used by another person, but by a blade that they did not know who had been cut by before.

Leaning forward, she focused on cleaning the remainder of the cut, listening to the conversation between the other three.

"Tachikawa-san, I need to know a few simple things, and then you can finish cleaning up and get going. After, of course, I give you a very necessary suggestion."

Frowning at the blond man, Mimi arched a brow before slowly nodding her head. Now was not the time to be arguing; she was tired and just wanted to go home and rest; arguing was just going to increase her time in the room and augment her irritation.

"All right, sounds fair enough."

"Good." Yamato grasped a chair and sat beside her, while Taichi sat beside Sora, both making sure that she could easily face them, while staying out of the way so that Sora could do her job without any obstacles.

"First question, which is the usual, did you get a good look at the man?"

Frowning, she wracked her brain to the attack, focusing solely on the time when she had been lying face-to-face with her attacker. The shadows had been so dark, and the light barely shone off of his face. She recalled a pair of dark eyes looking at her, but that was all. He must have been wearing some sort of mask.

Relaying this information to the men, she apologized profusely for having not considered getting a better look earlier, or for not running towards the light, which had been a few meters away.

"It's not your fault," Taichi responded, "you were being attacked. It's a natural response to just want to get away instead of think about what he looked like. Don't worry, if you did get a real good look at him, you'll remember it with time."

Nodding slowly, she listened as Yamato spoke the second question, which was a relay of the events. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes as she recalled the attack, trying not to let her heart rate increase as the memories flooded her mind. She felt her lungs suddenly constrict and scream for air but she fought it back, taking several soothing, deep gulps of air as she fought for some sense of focus.

It had been ever so terrifying, and terribly familiar. She still smelt the repugnant alcohol on his breath, the dampness of the room, the sensation that her entire life would be over in a matter of seconds because she wouldn't dare jump…

No, that didn't happen tonight … it happened a long time ago, and, she reminded herself, would never happen again. She'd gotten out of that situation alive, and she swore that she would never let herself get stuck in such a situation ever again.

Shivering, she willed herself to think about the present, where she was alive, relaxed, and in the safe care of her friends, and newfound acquaintance.

Opening her eyes, she let her gaze fall on the two men, watching as the emotions played across Yamato's face upon her completion of the retelling. Anger flitted into his eyes, followed quickly by guilt that ate away at his very soul. He hurt, deep down within him, at the thought that Mimi had been injured because of him; he had chased her out of the club and into the terrifying darkness of the night.

Running a hand through his hair, he shut his eyes tightly, trying to bite back the urge to stand up, rush out, and go find every male in Japan, throttling them until he found the one who had dared try and harm Mimi.

It was his fault for scaring her, for yelling at her, and blaming her. He had chased her out of the club, forced her into the night, and nearly pushed her into the waiting arms of the attacker. He felt his guilt eat away at his heart, chewing at every piece of him with delightful bites that caused pain to slowly wrack his entire body.

He envisioned her lying on the ground, dead, battered, because he had chased her away and dared not chase after her. It was because he feared her reaction that she had wound up injured and alone in the darkness outside, and he had remained inside the safety of the club, where the masses of bodies would have protected one of their own in an instant.

Pushing back the dark thoughts, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, reopening them to find Mimi gazing at him intently, as though she were attempting to read his mind. Fighting back a delightful shiver at the look of concern in her whiskey orbs, he cleared his throat before refocusing on the task at hand.

"Did he say anything to you during the entire situation, or was he silent?"

She sighed softly, and wondered if she ought to say exactly what the man had said. She recalled both times he had spoken, and, in all honesty, the first bout had scared her far more than the second. His proclamation that she was his terrified her, having the opposite reaction of Yamato's dominating, needful control of her to ensure her safety.

His was vicious, cruel, demanding, and unquestionable, as though she would never be given an option, while Yamato's held a hint, an undertone that let her know that, if she didn't want him, he would back off. But until she said so, she would be considered his.

Fighting back a delightful shiver at the image of Yamato taking her as his, she closed her eyes and tried to fight for some sense of concentration, this time, not because of horrific thoughts, but because she feared that if control didn't come soon, she would wind up taking Yamato right there, in the middle of the room.

"He did say something, but, I guess it was typical of any attacker to say it…" she trailed off. She didn't want to tell them what she had first heard; she knew Yamato would overreact and start shouting that she ought to have extreme security measures. She didn't know how she knew this information; something about his possessive nature told her that he would react in such a way.

"What did he say?" This came from Taichi.

Swallowing thickly, she gestured to Sora for a glass of water, half of which she swallowed in greedy, big gulps. Having emptied half of the glass, she turned to face the Lieutenant-Detective duo once more.

"He said something about, well, you know, killing me. He called me a bitch, and said he would fuck me and then kill me." She fought back a sarcastic smile. "Then he called me a whore. So, because of that, I later kneed him in the balls. Fucking ass deserved it." This earned a chuckle from Sora.

"Tachikawa-san, this really isn't the time to be discussing this lightly. This is a very serious matter and we need to get through these questions as quickly and efficiently as possible."

"I know, Taichi, but it's just … so much easier to deal with it through some humour. It lightens the mood, you know." She smiled softly.

Nodding slowly, Taichi couldn't help but completely agree with her; it was far easier to deal with difficult situations by adding some sort of comedic relief to it. He knew, from experience, that it had some tendency to help; he had done it quite often as a child and teenager.

She sighed heavily, brushing her free hand through her hair as the focused on becoming more serious, which took a time frame of about two seconds. Glancing towards Sora, who was currently bandaging her hand, she gazed back at the two men.

"That's pretty much all he said to me. I suppose it's a typical thing to say to someone you want to kill, but I wouldn't really know; I have never been in that situation before tonight."

Sora glanced towards Mimi, and knew that the girl was lying through her teeth. Mimi knew exactly what it felt like to be on the other side of the knife, to be victimized and pushed down, threatened until tears poured forth and she was ready to give up on everything she loved.

She remembered the past clearly, the things that had happened a few years ago; three, she believed – she always mixed up the date of the event. All she knew was that when the phone call came, she had fallen to the ground with relief and had sobbed in Taichi's arms until the sun rose in the sky.

She had never told Taichi what had happened; she had lied and told him that Mimi had gotten into a car accident, and she had worried for hours on end. She never once told her lover that Mimi had been in far worse shape and in a far worse scenario than having been in a car accident.

Mimi had come home with a haunted gaze in her eyes, something that was distant, always hidden behind a mask of joy that had remained the cover for about a year, until Sora finally managed to wrangle the truth from her friend. The truth about just how Mimi felt, how she had been plagued with endless nightmares that tore her from her sleep and sent her into the bathroom to become violently ill. She listened as Mimi confessed to her sudden bouts of food refusal, as though she feared that any food she ingested during the day would simply add to the physical pain of bringing it back up at night.

Mimi had been starving away, slowly fading away on the outside, locking everything dark and hurtful within her dissipating shell, as though she felt her body would be strong enough to hide such terrifyingly agonizing emotions and memories.

Sora remembered how Mimi had sobbed in her arms, her body so frail and weak, her bones jutting out, her skin stretching terrifyingly thin across the small muscles and white bones that made up the remainder of her tiny body. She recalled how Mimi had shaken and choked, coughing when she lacked air, and she felt the girl's heart thundering in her chest, as though it would suddenly burst into a million small fragments in any second.

She then remembered how, for the first time in nearly a year, Mimi had been able to fall into a restful, dreamless sleep. She had relaxed, shuttering her eyes, and fallen asleep in Sora's arms, feeling protected and safe for the first time since the horrible events.

Sora couldn't bring herself to remember the week she had made one frantic call after another, sobbing and shouting to anyone who dared pick up the other end, screaming for help, needing to hear _any_ news about her friend.

Even now, it brought tears to her eyes that she quickly wiped away, forcing her to try and focus on her task at hand.

She held the small, pale hand in her own tanned, slightly callused ones, and followed it up the ivory arm to look at the porcelain face. Mimi's eyes were slowly gaining more shadows, and the wrist she held in her grip felt thinner than it last had, as though the girl had lost some weight in the past couple of weeks.

She held the wrist with gentle care, noting the dark, purplish bruises that marred the pale skin, looking at the other dark marks that dared to try and destroy the perfection that was Mimi's smooth, white flesh.

Then, as she held her friend's hand, looking at the cuts and bruises, looking into eyes that were slowly becoming haunted again, Sora swore that she would do anything in her willpower, even risk her own life, to ensure that Mimi never got stuck in this situation ever again.

* * *

_Where was she?_

_Why did this place seem so terribly familiar?_

_Why did the air smell so dank and stale, when the yellowed windows were broken and letting in the cool, polluted air of the world outside?_

_Why was the room so big, and yet so empty?_

_The chairs were broken, tossed around, the tables were leaning heavily on shattered legs, dust coating the surface, and, when a cold breeze whipped through the room, the yellowed pages of ancient books scattered across the room, fluttering loudly in the wind._

_She couldn't feel her legs, and yet, they moved of their own will, sending her body in a slow walk around the room._

_Where was she?_

_Did anyone know where she was?_

_Was anybody aware that she was no longer at home, but in this dank, empty place in the middle of nowhere?_

_Her body moved towards the broken window, ignoring the shards of glass scattered across the ground as she stuck her head out. Looking at the rooftops around her, she knew that she wasn't in the middle of nowhere; she was in the middle of New York. _

_What was she doing in New York? She could have sworn that she had moved back to Japan a few years ago…_

_She looked down and swayed on the spot; she was at a terrifying height, looking down at the cars below that appeared close to human sized, while the humans themselves looked like ants._

_She had to have been at least eight stories high._

_She wondered what it would feel like to fall out of the window?_

_Shifting, she moved back into the room, ignoring the sudden visions of her body, splattered on the ground, bloodied and dead, waiting for the coroner to come and officially declare her deceased and useless._

_She moved around the room, taking in the broken objects, noting the thickness of the dust on the tables, as well as on the unexplored areas of the floor. Her eyes flew to the door, and she made her way towards it, her hands falling on a knob that refused to turn._

_It was locked. _

_It had to be._

_That was why she could not possibly get out._

_Her gaze fell to the ground, to the sight of a clear streak in the dust, leading towards a rumbled, pathetic excuse for a mattress lying in the middle of the room. She knew that chairs and tables had been cleared away from the area; there were spots on the ground where the table legs had been placed, little clear areas where chairs had lain on the sides for long periods of time._

_Where was she?_

_Her heart thudded against her chest as panic began to settle in. The calm numb that had filled her during her exploration slowly ebbed away, giving her mind time to dwell on all of the factors as to why she was currently imprisoned. _

_Her hands began to shake, her eyes darting about the room, no longer taking in the images of the room itself, instead darting about to search for some form of escape or another._

_She threw herself to the window again, thrusting her head out into the cool air, this time searching, panicking, needing to find some sign that she would be able to escape her current dungeon of dust, decay, and dampness._

_Her lungs gasped for air, each exhale rapidly growing closer and closer together, every inhale bringing less and less air into her system. Her heart pounded now, ramming viciously against her ribs and sternum, as though it was getting closer and closer to simply exploding in her chest._

_Spinning around on the spot, she fumbled throughout the room._

_Where was she?_

_Where was she?_

_WHERE WAS SHE?_

_"I want out…Somebody please get me out…"_

_Her knees rammed hard against the floor as she fell to them, her hands clenching into fists that pounded against the floor. _

_"Get me out … I want to get out … please get me out."_

_"Pretty girl."_

_Her head spun around, searching throughout the faint shadows of the room, searching fervently for any sign, any indication, that the voice had come from outside of the shadows in the corners. Her eyes darted back and forth; panic rising in her throat, the screams making it tight and her voice grow hoarse. She could barely get any air in her already and now this strangling anxiety was going to kill her._

_Tears welled in her eyes, and her body went utterly still as she felt a hot, sticky breath on the back of her throat. Her hair stood on end, her heart completely ceased its battered rhythm, and the entire world ceased to be. Silence filled her ears, silence broken by the hot, ragged breathing of the thing behind her, sticky, wet, smelling like the pungently bittersweet taste of aged whiskey._

_Her lungs screamed for air._

_Even the blood in her veins had stopped circulating, coming to a stand still as she waited, fearing for the worst, wondering when the creature would make its first move._

_A hot, wet object trailed down her throat, sending a burning trail of poison along her flesh, branding her skin with its foul liquid, making her entire body shudder with discontent, disgust, and despair, while her throat closed up again, this time trying to block the vomit that had decided to rise. She was left with burning trails on the inside and outside of her throat._

_Her mind was already begging for mercy._

_"Pretty, pretty girl."_

_A hand lifted, the movement making her start, bringing a harsh reality to her despairing thoughts. Lurching forward, not even taking a second to think, she threw herself away from the creature crouching behind her and swung around, taking it into full view._

_It was disturbingly human, and yet, terribly beast like, with abnormally large, hairy arms that boasted some of the world's largest muscles, or, at the very least, the largest muscles she had ever seen. Its very thighs were the size of her entire body width, and she knew that he had more hair on his body than she had on her head._

_His face was like a block of iron set upon the body of a wolf-man, block-shaped, with a broad jaw, and small, beady black eyes that watched her every move with a glaze in them, as though it were captivated by some drug. _

_She knew what that drug was, and she wanted to get it as far away from the man – she assumed it had to be male; no woman had that much hair – as possible._

_She slowly made her way to the window, fighting the rising panic, trying her hardest to stay as calm as possible so that she could escape a possibly more painful death. _

_"Pretty girl, where are you going?"_

_She shuddered at his voice, sickly sweet, abnormally childish, and yet painfully cruel. It was thick and ever so masculine, and yet, held a hint that sounded like a teenage boy who had just recently hit puberty. _

_It held a singsong tone to it, almost like the man was enjoying teasing her, using the perfect pitches and tones to make it sound like a playful song or game he enjoyed. _

_She didn't reply, but kept moving, slowly making her way to the window. Looking out of it, realizing just how high she was for the third time within Kami knows how many minutes; she felt the bile rise in her throat as despair and anguish slowly began to fill her._

_It was all swallowed up by fear._

_She let out a scream as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, crying out with pain as she was flung to the ground. Scrambling, trying to catch something and pull herself up, she only received handfuls of dust and a sharp sensation of pain running down the center of her back._

_Fear choked at her, swallowing her, and she drowned in its black waves as they consumed her. Her heart thundered so loud against her chest, she wore that he heard it, and her lungs were well beyond crying for air, nearing the edge of giving up for the substance altogether._

_Sobbing, unable to keep any sense of control anymore, she fought wildly against the arms, scrambling to her feet and running to the door._

_Pain immersed her as a chair was smashed against her back, throwing her to the ground, stumbling over the broken legs of a table to fall in a heap of splintered wood. _

_Whimpering as the splinters bit into her skin, she crawled through the pile, listening as the man sang behind her. She choked on the vomit, trying her hardest so swallow it, to push it back down so she would not be weakened for any longer periods of time. _

_Slipping on the dust, she cried out as the beast flung himself on her, forcing her body to swallow the splinters._

_"Pretty girl, don't you leave."_

_Well past sobbing, she whimpered loudly as the man's large hand ran through her hair, trailing through the chestnut locks, tugging on them until her head was sharply snapped back. _

_Her hands found their ways to his, and her nails dug into his rock-like flesh, trying to break the skin and cause him as much pain as she could, wanting to do anything to be able to get away from the beast._

_"Pretty girl, that hurts…"_

_He sounded almost disappointed, like he had never expected her to lash out at him in such a way, and just when she thought he would let her go and rub his hand, a crack filled the air._

_Her scream followed the sound, pain wracking her entire body, causing it to shake like a single leaf in a windstorm. Tears spilled from her eyes and she coughed and gagged as the bile rose again. _

_Her left arm lay useless, at a very odd, unusual angle._

_Broken._

_"Pretty, pretty, pretty girl…"_

_He licked her cheek again and started pawing at her body. His large hands touched her sides, stubby fingers digging sharply into her ribs until she gasped for air, feeling their imprint on her very lungs._

_His immense weight fell right on her hips, his legs straddling her waist as he touched and pawed at her, touching everything he could._

_"Stop…please … stop…"_

_Her voice sounded so distant and strange, like it was disconnected from her body, nowhere near the voice she was used to hearing. It was a whimpering, a mewling cry for safety and security, a plea for mercy and forgiveness for whatever she had done to deserve such agony._

_He leaned forward, easing some of the weight on her hips, but not enough; her bones were digging into the splinters and she fought back a groan of pain as the wood cut into her pants and flesh._

_"Why, pretty girl, why?" _

_She gagged as he licked her cheek, one long, wet swipe of the tongue that had her fighting to escape his grip once more._

_Sobbing and shouting words he did not understand, screaming out in her native language, she kicked at him, elbowing him with her good arm, until he released her and she crawled to her feet. _

_Running towards the door, thinking of nothing else but escaping._

_She was almost there…_

_"No! Pretty girl can't leave!"_

_She spun around just as he slammed his body against hers, throwing her to the ground on her back, pressing his entire body against hers. _

_Her arm screamed with pain and she cried out with it._

_His enormous hands tore at the buttons on her shirt, opening the top, exposing her bra-clad breasts._

_Slowly, he moved a hand to his waist, before pulling out a wicked, long, silver knife that glinted in the yellowish light of the room._

_Grinning, he lifted the knife in the air._

_"You is pretty girl. You is always my pretty girl…"_

_He swung the knife down…_

_"Pretty girl…"_

A scream was wrenched from her throat and she flung her body out of the bed, shaking violently, her stomach churning viciously. Scrambling to the bathroom across the hall, not caring how much noise she made, she flung herself to the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Panic seared through her, fear made her veins contract incessantly, sending the blood pouring so quickly through her body that she felt feverish with terror. Rivulets of sweat soaked her skin, drenching her, making her clothing glue to her pale flesh.

Her lungs, they couldn't breathe, they couldn't get enough air in.

Her heart, it wouldn't stop, it just kept hammering, it was going to explode.

Another wave of nausea hit her, and she continued to vomit until dry sobs wracked her body. Only then did she fall to her side, letting her head hit the cool surface of the bathtub.

Her body twitched and shuddered, her eyes constantly fluttering open and shut, as though she feared closing them, and yet, couldn't dare keep them open in the faint light of the bathroom.

The panic welled inside of her and she panted for air, fearing that she was nearing a panic attack.

Tears welled in her eyes.

She felt terribly alone…

Forcing herself to take several thick, gasping, shuddering breaths, she tried her hardest to calm her body, trying to push away the nightmarish memories that were plaguing her mind once more.

_'Please, Kami-sama, give me strength…'_

The tiniest amount of relief felt like an ocean of reprieve as she managed to slow her heart rate from a sprinting pace to a jogging rhythm.

Only then did she notice the cool cloth being pressed to the back of her neck.

Chocolate eyes looked down at her, so different from the dark and beady eyes of her dream, so filled with kindness and concern that it made her entire body shake with sobs.

Tears poured down her face and she flung herself into the embrace of the woman, sobbing and screaming into her chest, gripping onto the shirt as though she feared she would be viciously wrenched away from the girl in any second.

Sora sighed softly, rubbing the soaked back of the girl, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on the top of the black-haired woman's head.

"Oh Mimi…"

**There we go. So, how was it? I hope I live up to your expectations.**

**Anyways, some of you may have noticed that I have started another story. First, I want to let you all know that it will not be consuming all of my time, as this story is my first priority…after schoolwork.**

**Secondly, I hope that those of you who are currently interested in this style of story will be interested in my latest fic as well. I know, shameless advertising. I love it.**

**If you get too lazy to search for it, it's at the bottom of my profile page.**

**I hope that this chapter was okay. We're slowly learning more about Mimi, eh? I can't remember what dates I've given her before, so I'm just going to say it's been about two-three years since the incident. **

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed, especially to those who have made corrections.**

**I did not fix one, though, because it wasn't really an error. It was the last correction, where Mimi was saying "I'm going to fucking…" it's like that because she was about to say "I'm going to fucking kill you," but she got cut off.**

**That's all hun, but thank you so much for the corrections!!**

**Please, keep it up. I'm too lazy to find a Beta, and I just love posting everything right away. I should soon have enough time to read over them myself before I post.**

**Anyways, thanks so much for all of the reviews. Again, I hope that this is up to your expectations!**

**My rule still holds!**

**Jâne!**

**(P.S. I'm slowly beginning to learn Japanese, so I just recently found out that Ja ne is actually one word. Lol.)**


	14. Watching and Waiting

**Briefly, I would like to say thanks for you guys for all of the reviews and the patience you have shown me. I really appreciate everything**,** from the cute "I love it, please post" reviews to the critical reviews that correct my errors.**

**Thank you so much; you have no idea how much you have helped improve my confidence in my writing ability.**

**All other notes will be found at the end of the chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 14

Watching and Waiting

She was back.

He watched her with his scrutinizing yet easily pleased eyes, following her every movement in the room.

She was naked and for him to watch…

She was, after all, his.

He loved how her hair looked so soft, so smooth, and he believed that it would feel like silk between his fingertips.

He wondered if it would break easily, or would it stay strong as he gripped it tightly in his hand.

Growling softly at the back of his throat, he watched as she brushed her hair with long, smooth strokes, and, from the looks of her heart-shaped face, she was humming to some distant song he could not hear.

He watched.

He pretended that she was humming to him. A soft, sweet lullaby that would put him to sleep at night, after he had used and abused her, when he was spent she was still chained up, but passionately in love with him.

He saw the love in her eyes.

The way she stared at him with care, kindness, and complete and utter devotion. He knew that she loved him.

But, then, there was the _other_.

Of course, he was getting a bit luckier; the man had not been with her last week; he had been far from her when he watched.

He watched as she let some stranger bare her body and taste her.

He watched…

He was always watching, always waiting for the right opportunity to make his move. He was always angry in the end, angry because of her refusal to acknowledge his love, or because of the man.

She was devoting more and more time to the man instead of _him_.

It was growing rather irritating, so much so that he had to go vent his anger on another unsuspecting couple just last night…

It felt so good. To press his body up against theirs, to feel their pain in their muffled cries as they begged for him to be merciful and release them to be free in the night.

He could feel her, hot and tight around him, but far from moist. It hurt him; he could feel her distaste in him, knew that she was repulsed by his actions, and yet, he couldn't help himself. He had to keep doing it. He needed to do it to survive in the world.

A sound diverted his attention from his reveries and he noted that she had found a matching lingerie set to wear to work: a soft, pale blue lace bra and matching g-string, both of which cause his senses to go wild.

Growling louder this time, he clenched his fights tightly, lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes, watching with more detail as she moved around her room.

He watched her tug on a pair of nearly skintight, black pants, and felt his arousal grow.

She tugged on a matching blouse, covering the voluptuous, gorgeous swells that were her breasts.

His growls increased and he clenched tighter on the binoculars.

Oh, how he wanted to make her, his for all of eternity.

To take her and use her the way she deserved to be used. To take her both physically and mentally, to know that he owned both her body and her mind, was the greatest feat of all.

He felt himself harden in his pants, watching as she bent over to retrieve a dropped item – an earring perhaps? Or maybe it was a delicate necklace that would accent the lovely, pale slope that was her throat?

All he knew was that she was giving him one of the best views of her buttocks ever. Her ass was so tight and round, so … perfect. He just wanted to grab it, to rake his short nails over the flesh until she bled and begged for him to do other things to her.

Kami-sama, give him strength; he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to last with just watching…

The door shut and he watched as she made her way towards her car, and he continued to watch as she pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

Grinning from ear to ear, he slowly slid himself down the limbs of the tree, making his way nimbly to the ground, grateful that years of martial arts had giving him a lithe, nimble, and flexibly muscular body.

Landing softly on the grass, he quietly made his way to the duplex, this time climbing up a tree that was right beside her window. He wondered if that man would have given her shit for leaving her window open.

He didn't know the answer at the moment, and did not want to know it; all he wanted was to get into her room.

To touch the things she touched…put on…

Things that smelt like her…

He inhaled the sweet, cinnamon scent that permeated throughout the room, even more grateful that she and her housemate, that annoying brunette, had never thought about installing an alarm system.

He was gentle as he touched her things, holding them carefully, as though they were the most prized possession in the entire Universe. He brushed his fingers down the bristles of her hairbrush; he gently lifted the perfume bottle and sniffed the scent, and, carefully, lay facedown on her bed, inhaling the sweet, rich smell that was her.

Groaning with delight, he opened each drawer carefully, ensuring that he wore his gloves beforehand, before gently pulling out his favourite item.

It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen her wear…a lacy, thin scrap of scarlet that was a g-string.

Growling, he felt himself pressing against his pants, and he shoved the panties to his face, trying his hardest to find remnants of her scent that had not been washed away by soap and water.

Ecstasy and pride filled him, swallowing him whole as he sniffed the underwear, feeling the lace between his fingertips, loving the feel of it as he trailed it down his throat.

A groan escaped his lips and he shut his eyes, reveling in the feel of it…the smell of it…

He could just see her wearing it, moving around, showing the underwear off to him, and asking him what he thought of it. He could see himself just shoving it aside as he took her on her bed, pounding relentlessly in her until she cried out for mercy…

Then…she would stop…

He would extinguish her life as well as the flaming, furious desire that coursed through him.

Holding the underwear in his hands, he deftly made his way out of the room, straightening her bed slightly, before making his way off of the property, the underwear now safely in his pocket.

He turned and faced the duplex, smiling in spite of himself.

He would do it.

Soon.

He would make the bitch pay for denying him…

* * *

She sighed heavily, leaning over her desk, closing her eyes as she fought the fatigue that had been plaguing her all morning. She was tired and felt horribly out of shape; what she needed was a good workout session, something to rejuvenate her and revitalize her spirit.

She needed to sweat and pant, to work out all of her tired muscles until they were sore, but quite content.

Opening her eyes at the sound of a knock on the door, she beckoned the person inside and forced herself to appear awake and cheery; her client was here.

"_Ohayô gozaimasu_, Tachikawa-san."

"_Ohayô gozaimasu_, Shibayama-san. Come in, take a seat, please." She smiled when he gestured to the door. "Oh, just leave it closed; it'll be more private this way, don't you think?"

The large man smiled in return before making his way to the seat before her, calmly sitting down, crossing his hands in his lap.

"So, Shibayama-san, we'll just start with the normal question of: how are you?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, almost as though to say that he was okay, not great but not horrible, just a constant, boring feeling.

"I'm all right; I haven't been feeling too aggressive lately, so I guess that it's a good sign; maybe the therapy's working."

She smiled softly, pulling out her notepad. They had had only two appointments so far, neither of which had been completely successful in determining the cause for his sudden aggression. However, he had been able to vent about what _instigated_ his anger, mostly simple things that would irritate a person with normal aggression levels. These things, however, caused him to become as enraged as a wife when she found out he husband was cheating on her.

"Shibayama-san, I hate to burst your bubble, but all our sessions have accomplished is, well, letting you vent a bit to me. We still have to determine the source of the aggression, and that's when you'll see the real progression."

He nodded slowly, fully understanding what she meant about the need to find the root source. His eyes slowly roamed over her, noting the dark circles under her eyes and faint, red line that marred her pale throat. He saw the remnants of a bruise on her chin, and noted her bottom lip looked as though it had been recently swollen from a punch.

Frowning slightly, his eyes fell on her right hand, the palm of which was currently bandage, the white standing out starkly against the mahogany hue of her desk.

"I hate to ask…but, Tachikawa-san, what happened to your hand?"

Again, she let him see that soft smile of hers, a smile that meant to be sincere but only looked sad and shielding, and he knew that what she was about to tell him was not the entire truth.

"I cut it on a glass; I dropped a wineglass a few days ago and cut my hand picking up a large piece." She laughed softly. "I suppose it's probably because I slipped and slammed my face right into a cupboard." So she had noted his eyes falling on her bruised and faintly injured visage.

He chuckled along with her, knowing fully well that that was not what had happened. His eyes instantly fell on her left hand, searching in vain for a ring that would symbolize marriage and love. Noting the absence, he looked quickly over her desk, wondering if she held any photographs of loved ones. But the desk was bare save for one photo of her and another woman, whom, in their last session, was supposed to be her best friend.

"So, Shibayama-san, let's get started, shall we?" She flipped through her notepad, bringing his thoughts back from his thorough check for her 'lover'. He could feel annoyance slowly welling up in him; how dare somebody feel the need to hurt such a beautiful and kind woman? She had never done anything wrong to anyone…had she?

He couldn't be sure…all he knew was that she seemed too sweet.

"All right, we'll begin with a few ideas I had that might help you deal with the aggression. Now, I must admit that most patients, unless they realize that they are serious cases, rarely agree to doing this, but I will offer it all the same."

He slowly nodded, wondering quietly just what she was about to offer him.

She flipped her notebook to a certain page and read it briefly. "It's a substance something along the lines of Valium, a relaxant. It'll help ease your aggression and calm you down a bit when you're feeling rather angry or aggressive. You'd only have to take it once a day, but, it you're having a really difficult day, you can take it a second time eight hours after having taken the first dose. It's a new drug, called Ease, made by an American company. So far, the tests have proven to be good, which means that there are little to no side-effects, and a lot of patients have stated that the product works well."

He frowned from the first mentioning of the drug, his eyes darkening as she continued to speak about it, describing how to take it and what to expect from it. Scowling darkly, he shook his head before cursing quietly under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

"I … _sumimasen_, I just can't do it. I can't take drugs; I just really don't feel … up to it, I suppose." He closed his eyes, taking in a few slow, deep breaths.

Recognizing that something was deeply disturbing the man, Mimi shut the notebook before facing him, wondering curiously just what could be instigating such annoyance.

"Very well, Shibayama-san. I'm curious, though, to know just why you wish to not take the drugs? I can understand if it is personal choice; many people have certain religious beliefs, or they just do not feel the need to take drugs."

He shuttered his eyes, shielding his emotions from her, and she noted it; it was a sign that there was something he didn't really want to discuss, but, in the end, he just might have to discuss it.

"Shibayama-san, I understand if it is something very personal, perhaps something like a memory, that makes you dislike taking drugs so much. But, I would like to tell you two things before you decide fully on whether or not you wish to disclose the information to me. The first is that what is said in here remains in here; this place is a private area where you can tell me your thoughts and feelings without letting the whole world know them at the same time. Secondly, I'm not here to judge you. It would be, first off, very unprofessional of me to judge somebody, and secondly, I dislike judging people based on their memories, thoughts, and feelings. I try my hardest not to because a lot of people come to me because they are afraid of being judged. So … Shibayama-san, how about it?"

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his short hair, his lips forming a tight line across his face, before his eyes slowly opened, exposing the agony within their chocolate depths.

"When I was younger, my … my mother prostituted herself a lot. We were very poor, so she tended to bring the men to the house, as she couldn't pay for a hotel or anything. We lived in a small apartment, and a lot of the times, I could hear what was going on." He sighed heavily. "They weren't always very nice to her; a lot of times it sounded like they hurt her, were extremely aggressive with her, and she was a very delicate woman.

"It wasn't really the fact that she did those things that bothered me the most, it was more the idea that somebody would dare treat such a nice woman in that way. They were so rough, and a lot of times, when they left, I would find her crying and all bruised. She never did attract the nicest of clientele."

He gestured for water, and she got up slowly, poured him a glass of water and brought it over to him. Sitting back down, she watched as he gulped the water hungrily, as though he hadn't had water in an eternity.

When he had finished the glass, he sighed loudly and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes in a way to fight back the memories being unleashed in his mind.

"After a while, she started taking prescription drugs, stuff like Valium, as a way to numb the pain … I suppose. She didn't want to waste money on illegal stuff, so she would forge prescriptions, or get them from a family doctor and claim them as mine. She would take a lot at a time and wind up really screwed up. When I saw what it did to her and found out what was causing her to act that way, I swore to never take any prescription or illegal drugs with the exception of Advil or antibiotics that are prescribed by doctors after, say, surgery or getting very sick."

Mimi nodded slowly throughout the entire thing, watching the emotions play viciously across his face as though it were some cheerful, colourful playground. She felt a deep-seated pain wash over her, as though she couldn't help but feel the very pain he felt, the agony of remembering such horrid memories.

She couldn't help but understand…

Everybody had their own skeletons in their closet; the only difference was the severity of the skeleton's deformity and cruelty.

"Shibayama-san, I have one question before we continue, and I suppose it would be an obvious one … where was your father during all of this?"

She knew, then and there, that she had hit a minor source of his anger, his shoulders tensed, eyes darkened, and his jaw became firmly set.

"My so-called father was off traipsing about at work during the day, and at nights, he would go out and cheat on my mother. He always expected her to work just as hard as him, expecting her to pay half of the rent for the apartment, and have the money in full all of the time. Of course, he was completely clueless that she had to prostitute herself, all because he refused to buy food for her, and forced her to pay, at least, half of the rent. He was too busy spending his money on whores."

"So … you don't consider your mother like the women your father slept around with?"

He jerked out of his seat, waving his arms about, his voice rising with each spoken word. "How could they understand? The ones my father went after were the _expensive_ ones, the ones who charged obscene amounts of money just for one hour of so-called good sex. My mother was modest, she charged a decent amount, and came out of it worse for wear. Those things my father went after were _not_ whores, they were just women considering themselves to be expensive. That's all."

Taking in a slow, deep breath, she got up and went over to Junpei, gently placing her uninjured hand on his shoulder. "Shibayama-san, I understand that this brings about bad memories, painful ones that probably make you feel very angry, but I feel forced to kindly ask you to please calm down. I would rather not chance having someone barge in, afraid that you're about to do something crazy."

Nodding slowly, taking several gulping gasps of air, he slowly willed himself to calm down, to try and think about the present. His mother was dead, he explained; she had overdosed on drugs. His father had promptly taking him away from the city, after having found out his wife had also been cheating. Only, his father had refused to understand the reason for his mother's actions; he had believed her to be like the women he had slept with.

Mimi leaned back against the desk, crossing her legs as she listened to him, not wanting to go too far away from him, afraid that he might jump up with anger a second time.

"My father … he didn't understand what a kind and caring woman she was. He refused to believe that she was doing this for the better good; she was trying to _help_ and he called her a whore. She didn't have an education like him; he was ten years older than her, and she was sixteen when he got her pregnant. She thought that he had loved her, and she cried every night because she was not being loyal to him. It hurts, you know, hearing your father call your mother a whore…"

"I would say that I understand, but I can't, Shibayama-san, I'm sorry. But I can try to offer some advice. Remember that your father shielded himself; he blocked himself off from all other possibilities and treated people like he thought they deserved to be treated. He was a selfish man, and nothing can stop him from being like that. Your mother was a very kind woman, and she was really strong. If it had been me, I would not have been able to deal being in the same situation; I would have probably given up early on. Another thing you must remember, which I'm proud you do, is that your mother loved you, no matter what happened. She cared so much for you that she literally gave her life so you could live. That, Shibayama-san, makes her one of the strongest people I've never had the chance to meet."

He sighed heavily, his eyes shutting as his head fell back. "I know … I know Tachikawa-san … but sometimes … it's just so hard. I just get so angry when I think about those things. I try not to, you know, but … when I came back here … I suppose just being in the city unearthed them." He looked up at her, suddenly gaping, his mouth wide with an expression of shock.

"Tachikawa-san … you … wow!" His expression of shock turned into a broad grin. "Thank you! You've helped me so much!"

Her smile, still soft, held no sadness this time, but a faint glimmer of pride that shone in her amber eyes. "I'm proud of your for admitting it to me, Shibayama-san. But, we still have more stuff to go through; we may have found the possible root cause, and the link to how it's very sexual for you, but we still need to find a way to ease it so that you no longer get attacks of aggression."

Junpei, however, was not fully listening, for, just as she finished speaking, the door had opened, and a smaller, bald man walked into the room.

Hida Iori stopped in his tracks, mouth open, appearing rather aghast that she stood so near to the bulk of a man consuming the wooden chair. His cheeks then flushed with a bright embarrassment, and he muttered something inaudible before making his way out of room, closing the door behind him.

A smile played at her lips, and she looked down at the digital clock on the desk. "Well, I guess we went five minutes over. I'm very sorry; I won't charge you for the five minutes, I promise." She glanced back towards Junpei, her eyes holding a sincerely apologetic look. "Sometimes, when we get to a breakthrough, it's hard to just stop the session as is and continue."

He nodded, getting up, showing his understanding of the situation. He was grateful that she wasn't charging him the extra time, and even more grateful that she had helped him so much in such a short amount of sessions. He was only on his third and already he was feeling the aggression fade.

She was such a sweet woman…

Whoever dared to hurt her would most certainly pay … he would make sure of it.

* * *

She panted, gasping for air as sweat poured down her forehead, her muscles screaming in protest as she pushed herself closer to the peak. Her legs moved, hard, swift, and fast, her hips turning slightly, while her arms flexed with each movement. Stray strands of hair fell from her ponytail, sticking to her blushing cheeks and sweat-covered face.

She stopped, and moved aside, gasping for air as the machine stopped its work, slowing down to a halt. Her lungs screamed for air and her heart hammered against her chest, and yet, she felt oh-so satisfied and beyond content with herself.

Standing straight, having finally managed to gather enough breath within her lungs, Mimi swung her head back, eyes closed as she lifted a bottle to her lips, guzzling the cool, wet liquid that trickled down her throat and eased the burning heat within her body.

Sighing loudly as she removed the bottle from her mouth, she opened her eyes and looked around the room, knowing fully well that she should not be embarrassed by the clothing glued to her, but, in fact, proud of it.

The gym was full, several men and women working out, most trying their hardest to sweat as much as possible and show how hard they were working at losing the weight, whilst others simply stood around, mostly skinny females, trying to look pretty.

Adjusting her shorts, she moved away from the treadmill, making her way over to a few mats lying on the ground, before plopping herself down on an empty one and stretching her legs out in front of her. Stretching her arms high above her head, she closed her eyes and counted to twenty, or until her muscles eased into a calm, smooth feeling of relaxation. Slowly, she did the stretches, doing each one at a time, taking her time until, in the end, she felt limp and comfortable, relaxed, despite the sweat gluing her clothes to her body.

Sitting up on the mat, she crossed her legs Indian style, leaning back slightly, closing her eyes as she began her brief period of meditation that would calm her heart and ease her aching, sore muscles. She slowly breathed in and out, taking her time to calm her body, listening to the distancing sounds of the grunts and machinery moving each second.

It had been about a good week since her attack, and Taichi had taken to calling her every single night, asking her how her day was, and simply irritating her to the point that she finally gave in and called a security company. They were to come and set up their system on that Friday. Sora had also taken to watching over her, checking her injuries every day, and, finally, just two days ago, she had said that Mimi could have the stitches removed.

Looking down at the bandage-covered hand, she watched as a few drops of blood surfaced and stained the white wrap. She knew that she had probably opened a small scab while working out, but it didn't really bother her. She already knew that it would scar, and it would be only a physical scar compared to the nightmares that psychologically scarred her mind.

Taking in a few more deep breaths, fighting back the sudden rise of panic within her, she willed herself to focus on her breathing instead of the nightmares that had plagued her for the past week.

No, they weren't nightmares…

They were memories…

She didn't want to remember those days … locked away in that damp room at the top of the abandoned factory. She didn't want to remember how she feared, each and every time, that the beast would take her, only to feel a strong sense of relief whenever he received some form of a conscience and moved away.

She just didn't want to remember what had happened on that last day there…

Sighing softly, she stood up, gathering her water bottle and a towel from the nearby rack; she made her way towards the changing room.

The nightmares had finally subsided three nights ago, after Sora had finally managed to tug the story out of Mimi. Sora had sobbed with her, holding her friend tight and close, crying tears of pain and empathy onto Mimi's face, mingling with her own tears. She had held her for hours on end, whispering sweet words in her hair, holding her tight and close, giving her all of the warmth she had. Mimi had taken that warmth gratefully and had tried to give back her own, trying to let Sora feel some of her own, sweet, tortured heat that had taken forever to return to her body.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she entered the locker room, making her way towards her locker as she thought back to the night when Sora had finally helped her ease away from the nightmares. Sora was such a good friend, like the sister she had always wanted, and Mimi wanted, with all of her heart, to be able to repay Sora for her years of kindness.

Sora was truly a loving, caring person.

Pulling out her gym bag, she shut the locker and made her way towards the showers, her thoughts finally be tugged away from Sora and her nightmares; she would have a few difficulties getting the darn bandage off of her hand so she could wash. Fortunately, the stitches had been removed the previous day, so she knew that she didn't have to worry about tearing one. Although, she did worry about the bandage ripping off of her scabs, but she would deal with it when it came to it.

Carrying her bag in her uninjured hand, she walked towards the showers, quite amazed at the way technology had improved throughout the years. Although the locker room, itself, was set up in the same, old style of the 1900's, the shower room was completely different. It was simply a long corridor of doors, which lead into a bathroom-like room, suited with a shower stall, toilet, sink, and a small cupboard for one's clothes and towels, as well as a hamper for the dirty towels that belonged to the gym.

She entered one of these rooms; they were always unlocked unless somebody was in one, and locked the door, knowing that a red light would go on above the door, signaling that somebody was in it.

In Shower Stall Number 4, for they were all numbered, she placed her stuff in the cupboard, and proceeded to strip. The focusing of her attention on the removal of her clothing helped her fully stray from her earlier thoughts, and she focused back on the present. Moving over to the back corner of the room, she stood in front of the rather large stall, and began pressing the buttons on the wall beside it, adjusting the temperature and force of the spray she wanted.

Technology certainly was amazing.

Laughing quietly to herself, she thought about how she felt like she was in a Star Wars movie.

In the end, she thought that being in a Star Wars movie would be way better than currently living in this reality.

* * *

He wanted to kill somebody.

No, he _was_ going to kill somebody.

The fucking bastard…

His hands were clenched into tight fists, eyes dark slits of blue that expressed the deepest, darkest, coldest hatred from within his very body. His heart pounded against his chest, while his stomach twisted and turned, like a pile of writhing snakes that were constantly getting tied into knots. His lungs heaved for air, begging him to open his mouth and throat and take in a deep, gasping breath of the cool, life saving oxygen that filled the air.

His muscles were tense, like he had been stressed for days on end. It was because he was stressed that his muscles were tensed. Every night, he woke up in a chilled sweat, his heart racing against his chest as his lungs screamed for air, while his mind swirled with the darkest, most despairing thoughts he had thought he would never come to think.

The images of the dream were still vivid in his memory, even as he stood at the crime scene, looking down at the dead bodies before him. They were not the young couple, murdered only twelve hours before, but they were a bright, sweet, dark-haired woman with a seductive smile and bewitching gaze.

But, in his dreams, the smile was curled into a frown, a grimace of pain felt just before death, while the eyes lay cold, like frozen whiskey, empty, amber orbs that gazed on forever after death.

The pale skin, so soft, so tender, was bruised and battered, ivory with splashes of crimson staining the porcelain skin of the doll, scarlet streaming down to stain the clothes that were ragged and torn on the body, exposing and yet, somehow managing to keep the image modest. Her pretty, long column of a throat was slit, from ear to ear, exposing the torn trachea, no longer flooded with blood, a simple red, gaping slit that exposed the inside of the beautiful column and the reason for her death.

But that wasn't all that plagued him in his dreams; he saw the bruises, he would see the cuts, the signs of extreme violence. He would hear her screams as somebody other than him shoved their way into her body, forcing her to succumb to their strength and power, forcing her to forever be theirs.

But … why?

That was the question that plagued him his every waking moment. Why would somebody go after someone so caring, so sweet, somebody with a melodic laugh and a bright spirit that helped others fight their fears and gain a sense of self-esteem? What she done that, in the end, was leading to the attempts on her life?

Guilt filled his body as he recalled the sight he had seen before his eyes upon exiting the club. Her body, bruised, cut, and shaking, looking so terribly pale, standing out in the darkness of the night. Her limbs seemed so frail, and he had feared to touch them, almost as though he feared he would break them.

He had held that frail body in his arms, and had never wanted to let go. It had been his fault that she had left in the first place; if he had not barged in on her, then she, most certainly, would not have rushed out of the club in such fury. If he had just tried talking to her … but his jealousy had overcome his senses, overwhelming him with such strength that his mind had easily succumbed to their seductively angry whispers.

He buried his face in his hands, remembering how she had sat there, calmly in the questioning room, and yet, he had noticed the tremors that filled her body each and every time she was asked to recall the scenario. He had wanted to take her in his arms again, fill her with his warmth, and let her know that everything would be all right.

He wanted to say that he was sorry for chasing her out. He was sorry that it was his fault that she had gotten attacked. It was his and only his fault that she had nearly died in the arms of a stranger that night, in the darkness were no moon waned and no stars glimmered with a brilliant laughter.

Every day it hurt … it hurt to know that he had been the near cause of her death. He felt such a tremendous urge to protect her with his life, especially now, and he was growing more and more desperate. It took all of his strength of will not to follow her to work, or to set up a car near her house to ensure that she got home all right. It had taken everything in his power no to do it himself, to not follow her everywhere and make sure that she did not even break a nail.

He was obsessed.

And yet … he did not feel terribly obsessed in a way that he would kill to have her, or take her without her consent. Something inside of him told him that, if she said no, he would back away calmly and accept that she did not love him.

Love?

He turned away from the scene and began walking around the perimeter, pretending to look for clues, while his mind strayed on the thought concerning that one, four-letter word.

Love.

Did he love her?

It was strange to think that, for the first time in his life since his parents' divorces years ago, that he mind feel some sort of love for somebody.

Love…

That four-letter word, such a small, little word, that held so much strength.

What was love? Was it this strange obsession? Was it the feeling that he would never be able to exist without her? Was it the dreams that constantly plagued him at night? The nightmares that screamed for him to go back and protect her with his very life? Was it the pain he had felt in during his every waking moment, when the guilt had eaten away at his very being and he wanted, with all his might, to turn back the clock and save her from the vicious, cruel man who had attempted to burn out the light that was her life?

What was love?

Was it the constant tenderness he felt for her? The constant need to hold her in his arms and protect her from all of the darkness in the world? Was it the feel of her beating heart against his as his lips found hers in a sensual, yet tender embrace? Was it the way his mind always found a way to bring her into every conversation? Or was it the sheer, absolute care he felt for her, the endless feeling that he needed to know everything about her, and felt triumphant when she directed her kind words towards him?

He didn't know. But, something he did know, was that he wanted to be near her.

The panting of breath behind him made him turn around and focus his attention on the now. The crime scene was taped off, located at the back of Cruella's. It had been exactly one month since the last killing, and they had begun to think that it was over.

So why did the killer suddenly show up again?

He wondered about this as Taichi showed up at his side, panting for air. "I … tried calling … Mimi-san …and she … is not answering."

Yamato couldn't help but frown and cross his arms. He arched a brow at his comrade, wondering aloud just why Taichi had felt the need to sprint over as fast as he could to give Yamato this information. Then, it hit him. What if…?

No, he had to push those thoughts back, all the way to a far and distant recess of his mind, where he didn't have to think or focus about any of the negative thoughts. They would simply consume him, and he would be able to do nothing but succumb to their whispered words.

He wouldn't let them control him.

"Detective Yagami," he used this title only when in public, "have you tried calling Tachikawa-san's friend, Takenouchi-san? It is very possible that Tachikawa-san is in a meeting and cannot answer her phone."

A blush tinged Taichi's cheeks, and he stammered quickly that he hadn't thought of calling his lover and Mimi's best friend. Dialing the number on his cell phone, he spoke quickly to her, before turning to Yamato to relay the information to the blond. Mimi was at the gym, like she always was every Thursday afternoon. At Yamato's request, Taichi got the directions, and hung up after a rushed 'I love you.'

Turning to Yamato, he frowned as the blond began heading away from the crime scene. Following him, Taichi's frown deepened as he noted that Yamato was headed towards his car.

"Lieutenant, you're not thinking of going over there and getting her, are you?"

"She's a part of this team, just like you and me, and she should always have her cell phone on, I told her that the moment she joined us. I told her to be expected to be treated exactly like a cop, always on call, and that she should always be ready to head for a crime scene or to the station if we called."

"But, Lieutenant, you can't really expect to be allowed in the gym. Okay, well, you'll be allowed in the gym, but what if she's in the woman's changing room?"

"Then I'll go in and get her."

The simple prospect of being able to see her again was filling his mind, making him want, making him need, to do anything in his power to see her again … to touch her and to know that she was all right.

Besides, he had clearly instructed her to always be ready for a call, so he would consider this a learning experience for her. She had obviously disobeyed him, so, the Dom in him said, she was to be punished. Even if it meant finding her naked and wet in the shower, he would find her and drag her to the scene, instructing her the entire way that she should always have her phone on.

What if it had been an emergency? He sat in the car and drove. What if Sora had been hurt and had been trying to call Mimi? He found the place with ease. What if Yamato had been calling her to tell her that they had a break in the case? Flashed his badge at the desk. There were just so many 'what if's.

He walked through the gym, asking around if anybody had seen her. Some women told him that they had seen her head off towards the changing room, and he couldn't help but feel a powerful surge of triumph at the thought of finding her half-naked.

Entering the changing room without being stopped and without even asking, he couldn't help but smile. The women were, in fact, all changed, and no one was naked. He knew that, because the amount of peeping toms had increased in public women's changing rooms, the lockers were only there to hold things, while a series of rooms and shower stalls were established for the purpose of cleaning and changing.

Asking around, he was finally told that she had entered Shower Stall Number 4. Making his way over to the door, he used his police I.D. to bypass the code locking the door, and entered the changing room quietly, closing and locking the door behind him.

Before the door had fully shut, he heard a series of feminine giggles, and few women whisper that Mimi would be having some amazing company.

His favourite was the woman who said that Mimi would be pleased with her new, personal trainer.

Turning around at the shut door, he surveyed the room quickly, noting the cleanliness of it, and, even before his eyes fell on the shower, he felt the strong humidity and heard the water pouring in the stall.

The glass was distorted, a foggy glass that hid her nudity despite the fact that nobody could see her anyways; the door had been locked.

But he was there, and he couldn't help but feel grateful that the glass was fogged; he did not know what he would have done if he could see her full, naked body covered in rivulets of water.

"_Konnichiwa, _Tachikawa-san."

She screamed and he heard a thud as her shadow fell to the ground of the stall. She fumbled, reaching around for the first time she could find, and grasped a hold of her shampoo bottle. Slowly, she stuck her head out from behind the door, a mass of wet, black hair surrounding the pale, heart shaped face. Her eyes narrowed, the bottle held out like a weapon that would save her life if it came down to it.

The eyes widened when they caught sight of the man standing by the door, leaning against the wall. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his black slacks, while a white shirt was tucked loosely in his pants. The tie fell to his navel, and her gaze went further down, falling on the crotch of his pants, noting that the way he held himself hid any sign of arousal.

Keeping the bottle out just in case, she scowled up at him from her position on the floor, trying to appear indignant despite the fact that she was naked in the shower and he stood fully dressed, with a gun at his side.

"I … Ishida-san! What in Kami's name are you doing here?" Her voice had obtained a pitch she never thought it could – high and extremely irritated.

He couldn't help but smile; the flush at her cheeks told him that she would most certainly be sorry for turning off her phone. However, he just didn't know why he taking a great deal of pleasure from punishing her for such a little thing. Perhaps it was simply the lack of sexual activity in the past month.

"Well, Tachikawa-san, you forgot to turn on your cell phone, and I've been trying to contact you for the past several hours." It was a double-lie; Taichi had been trying to contact her, and he had only been trying for a good half hour. But sometimes it couldn't hurt to exaggerate the truth just a little bit.

She frowned, wondering briefly if she should just continue her shower while they talked. It really couldn't hurt…

"If I hear you come near this stall, I swear on Kami-sama, I will squirt this entire damn bottle of shampoo in your eyes and find something painful to shove up your ass. Got it?"

His grin widened. "Sounds like a blast."

Closing the door, she resumed washing, rather irritated with herself for having not taken longer in the shower; she only had to wash her body and would be finished. She couldn't help but wonder if he would leave the room if she asked; it was only common courtesy, wasn't it?

She couldn't but smile slightly, noting that, although she had bled a little when removing the bandage, the bleeding had stopped. Sighing heavily then, she squirted the body wash into her uninjured hand, breathing in the soft, subtle scent of lotus flowers and cherry blossoms.

Before they could restart their previous discussion, she had quickly lathered the body wash all over her body, cleaned herself of the sweat and dirt, and was in the process of turning off the water from the panel inside the shower.

"Ishida-san, I would really like to get out of this stall. If you would kindly leave the room, I will not be forced to scream when I get out of the shower."

She could see him in her mind, grinning like a Cheshire cat, ready to pounce on the fact that the rooms were, in fact, well insulated from sound.

"Well, Tachikawa-san, I hate to state the facts, but, in this particular situation, you are very much unprotected. Or, did you forget that the rooms are padded so that nobody can hear what's going on inside, or outside? Yes, it's a lovely invention. I suppose they did it for … particular reasons. Don't you?"

As he spoke, he fought to grit his teeth, gnawing on the side of his cheek roughly as he felt a powerful lust fill his body. There she was, naked and exposed, unprotected in that shower stall. He could just see her body's outline in the fogged glass, growling with delight as she lifted her arms, thrusting her breasts in the air.

He felt his erection press against his pants and he further adjusted his position, not knowing if she would stick her head out a second time. The last thing he wanted was to have her notice his arousal.

Although, it could have some pretty interesting consequences…

Leaning further back against the door, he continued to grin as scenarios filled his mind. What would she do if he just opened and closed the door? Would she stick her head out and look to see if the coast was clear, or trust the shit out of him and just step out?

The prize was most certainly worth the risk.

"Fine, fine, Tachikawa-san, I can hear you snarling from here. I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to wait outside. I'm giving you three minutes, exactly. Starting…now." He turned, opened the door, waiting a second, and then shut it.

He resumed his position, leaning and grinning.

Now to wait.

The wait lasted for a good couple of minutes, almost as though she were wondering whether she should just step out or not. Twice, he ignored her questions directed to 'him', twice she paused afterwards, listening to the silence that now filled the room.

The entire time he grinned.

And waited…

She knew that she would feel foolish if she stuck her head out and checked beforehand. Furthermore, she had, twice, asked questions, and, both times, had not gotten a single answer. She could hear no movements, not even the sound of breathing.

Sighing heavily, she ran her hands the best she could through her hair, pushing it away from her face, enjoying the feel of it plastered against her bare back. Then, leaning forward, she flung the door open.

**Edit: Lyphta noted that I mentioned (in my first section of this chapter) that the stalker was going into a home sans security system. I would like to note that I forgot to add that the scenario took place several days before the remainder of the chapter. (I got too lazy to write up a whole...blahblahblah days later.) So, just pretend that it took place a day or two before they installed the system.   
**

**I'm a bitch, I'm a bitch, and I'm a bitch!! Hee hee, don't you guys just HATE me now?**

**Lovely little cliffhanger that might, possibly, lead to a…LEMON!**

**Oh snap. **

**Maybe there will be a lemon next chapter, maybe there will be a description of Yamato lying in the ICU after Mimi got a hold of him. **

**Who knows?**

**Only I do!!**

**Why?**

**Because the next chapter is already written, all I need to do is edit it a little bit and I shall pooost it!**

**But, of course, I need a minimum of three reviews before I can post it…so, if you're waiting and I don't post, maybe you should review. Who knows? It could take a whole month before I get that third review. **

**Or I could just be a bitch and not post until you are all begging for it.**

**Hee hee, I love this.**

**So, yes, three reviews and you will all know the outcome of Yamato's devilish, sudden plan.**

**While I already know it!**

**So, please, review, correct any mistakes, and the first three reviews will get a piece of Lemon Meringue Pie because…I love Lemon Meringue Pie.**

**Too bad I'm not handing out any Cherry Pie in this fic. I love Cherry Pie, too.**

**Jâne!**


	15. La Petite Mort

**Chapter 15**

**La Petite Mort**

She flung the door open…

And froze.

Yamato turned his head towards the door and could no longer think or breathe. There she was, in all of her naked glory, droplets of water dripping down her creamy flesh to pool at her feet.

His eyes roamed over her body, his cock twitching incessantly in his pants each time he looked at a new body part. Her legs were long, satiny smooth, and begging to be caressed. Her torso was lean, a flat stomach, leading up to large, creamy, perky breasts. His cock twitched again.

Oh dear Kami-sama…

Her nipples were pierced.

The silver barbells gleamed in the light, enticing him, begging him to come forward and tug on them until he brought her to a crashing climax.

Her arms, like usual, were long, lean, and he caught a glimpse at the small tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Instantly, he yearned to kiss the tattoo, to bite the sensitive flesh and feel her shudder with excitement.

Her face was flushed with embarrassment, eyes wide with confusion and fear, and yet, her lips were parted with a sudden onslaught of desire. Those soft, tempting lips he yearned to kiss until they were bruised.

The aching increased even more as his eyes finally fell on the juncture between her thighs, and he fought back a strangled groan.

Smooth. Smooth and soft _everywhere_. No, not a sign that she shaved, no sign of wax, but sheer, smooth skin caused by laser surgery.

The shimmer of light caught him off guard, and he exhaled loudly as he noted the small, silver ring on the hood of her clitoris. He remembered the feel of that cool silver against his finger as he had teased her to a near orgasm just a few weeks ago.

Kami-sama must either love him or hate him.

Feeling a primal growl welling up at the back of his throat, he fought back the intense urges to simply throw himself at her, press her against the wall, spread her delectable thighs, and push his way into her tight, wet heat.

Her eyes opened wide in response, the lashes long, giving her eyes a lovely doe-like appearance, confusion and minor annoyance adding a sensually naïve look.

She reacted slowly, almost as though she had not expected him to remain in the room, her brain still trying to function, when she saw the muscles ripple beneath the dark jeans and dark shirt he wore. She watched as his body visibly tensed, his eyes slanting into a primitive, hunting glare that made her feel like the prey.

He was on the prowl, and she knew that he had finally found what he wanted.

She knew, deep down, that she should have been throwing something at him, hitting him, doing anything to stop him from looking at her naked body, but the devil in her mind told her not to.

It told her to take advantage of the situation.

So, she decided, she would. He had decided to play his game, so why shouldn't she play her own?

Besides, what could happen?

Stretching slightly, purposely giving him a better view of her nude body, she turned slightly, brushing a few wet strands from her face as she began to gather her things from the shower.

"So, Lieutenant, what's brought you to my shower in this public changing room?"

He swallowed thickly, trying to fight back the primitive urges that were slowly consuming his mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying his hardest to remain as nonchalant as possible. However, it would prove to be quite a feat if she kept stretching, showing off all of her curves and sinewy muscles.

"Well, I have been looking for you for the past couple of hours. I wasn't sure where to find you, so I called up Sora and she said that you were here." He knew he was repeating his earlier statement, but he decided to entertain her. Leaning back against the wall, he kept his eyes on her face and nowhere else. "I showed your photo to a few women, and they said that you were here. Took me less than a minute to unlocked the door and get in here." He grinned.

Having stuffed her shower necessities in a bag, Yamato noted that she did not have a razor, thus adding to his laser theory. She lifted a small towel to her hair and began the process of drying it to her best ability.

"Ah, I see. So, you didn't even seem to care that I was in the shower, you just hopped right into the room without even knocking." She smiled. "That's terribly unprofessional of you, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Well, there wasn't much else I could do. I felt uncomfortable waiting outside for you, so I decided to come on in. No harm done, and no harm intended." He lifted his hands out of his pockets to show them as a way of expressing his innocence. "See, no weapon."

She couldn't help it, she placed the towel aside and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing the creamy swells upwards, causing his attention to waver briefly on the rosy, pierced nipples that had hardened from the cool air.

"Lieutenant, I still don't see how you find it necessary to barge into a women's changing room, and then into my shower room, without a single ounce of warning. I'm surprised that anybody even let you in here!"

He pulled out his I.D. with a sensual grin, one that made her toes curl and heart race. "It's called a badge, baby, and mine even has a picture."

"Ah, I see, so, in this case, your lovely picture is worth a thousand words."

Pursing her lips, she turned around and bent over into the shower, reaching for the body wash she had accidentally left on the floor.

His brain shut down.

Her back was just as lovely as her front; a smooth expanse of pale flesh, curving in just the right places, giving her the loveliest ass he had ever laid his eyes on. In the middle of her back was an ornately designs ankh, one he hadn't really noticed before, even though she had worn quite revealing tops; her hair had always blocked it, and, if not, then it had been too dark or he hadn't even bothered to look at her back. The black ink stood out on the white skin, making his cock pulse violently with need, causing his jeans to become rather uncomfortable.

He watched as she bent over, noting she did it with a precision that would show off her buttocks, but not give him a view of anything else.

Then she shifted.

He caught a flash of soft pink petals.

He lost it.

With a loud growl, he tore his shirt off and strode forward, grasping a tight hold on her breasts, forcing her to stand straight up against his body as his lips found her throat, teeth bared and rough against her neck.

A small cry escaped her lips, the unexpected action leaving her body shaking with fright and a terrifyingly sudden onslaught of need so strong it nearly made her fall to her knees. His body was taut and muscular where hers was softer and curved, and yet, she molded perfectly against him.

She felt his erection pressing against her lower back and let out a soft, mewling cry as moisture pooled between her legs.

His fingers worked at her nipples, teasing them into aching buds of need, pulling on the piercings, tugging on the peaks, making the hot moisture increase.

She knew, her conscience screamed at her, to make him stop, to push him away, but her mind was succumbing to the need filling her, consuming her. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, her lungs screaming for air, and he had barely touched her.

He bit her earlobe, whispering some of the crudest, most sexual things she had ever heard in her ear.

All intellectual thought in her brain ceased to exist.

Her head fell back against his chest and his fingers tightened their hold on her nipples, tugging harder, bruising the pale breasts as he roughened his grip.

Without any sign of warning, he spun her around and pressed her up against the nearest wall, crushing his lips to hers as he let out a loud groaning growl of pleasure.

Her lips opened without protest, her soft moan swallowed by him as their tongues began that ever so sensually erotic tango, their teeth nipping at each other's lips.

His hands went to her hair, gripping the strands tightly as he roughened the kiss, bruising her lips with his as he pressed his body aggressively against hers.

Kami-sama, she was so soft and smooth. He didn't know if he would be able to wait much longer.

"Ah."

Her arms twined around his neck, her left leg lifting to wrap around his right, slowly opening herself to him as her need ceaselessly increased throughout her, multiplying by the second, spreading further within her body. She was growing drunk with it, drunk with the strong passion that burned through her like liquid fire.

She shouldn't be doing this. Something in her told her to fight the temptation, to not give into the desire that was coursing through her body. But something else within her screamed for release, shouting at her that the weeks of torturous sexual tension would finally come to an end if she just succumbed to this desire. The begging cries were so clear, so prominent and strong within her, and she knew, then and there, what she needed to do, and she gave in to the lust.

His lips found her throat and he pressed himself harder against hers, reveling in the feel of her naked breasts against his bare chest. He groaned with delight at the mixture of cool silver and hot skin pressing up against his body.

He couldn't wait.

He growled against her flesh, needing her to know, even just once during this whole escapade, that he had waited long enough…

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you from the moment I first saw you."

Her eyes widened with renewed shock, her lips parting, giving him the chance he needed to crush his mouth against hers and savagely twine his tongue around hers in a fierce game of passion.

He groaned against her lips, and he knew, at that moment, without the aid of words, that she, too, had been waiting and wanting him for just as long. Something in her eyes, the way her body suddenly relaxed against his, whispered the words to him that maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to accept the idea of him as her lover.

He pulled away, watching the emotions play in her eyes, waiting for her response, begging and pleading with Kami-sama that she might just consider making love with him.

She was trying to come to terms with the idea of giving into him. Her body was yielding to the passion his touch caused, to the burning fire that was slowly filling her. But her mind was constantly there, nagging her, whispering to her that what she was doing was wrong.

Why? Why was she doing this? Why did it feel so good to fall into his arms and let him kiss her?

It just … felt right. Every touch, every little caress, the feel of his lips pressed fervently against hers filled her with a need so powerful that it frightened her. But it was not the need that finally made her agree with him; it was the soft, tender feel of the butterflies flitting aimlessly throughout her stomach, tickling her and filling her with a sensation of security and warmth. It was the feeling that, in his arms, she would be protected and cared for.

It just felt right…

Moistening her lips, having finally caught her breath, she glanced up at his eyes. They hard darkened, matching the indigo waves of a turbulent ocean in a storm, crashing against the shores, moving with a strength and passion she had never seen before. They were filled with such powerful desire and need that it made her knees quake and her lungs beg for breath once more. In his eyes, she saw … it.

She knew, then and there, just by seeing the look in his eyes, that no matter what decision she would make, he would respect her and never think any less of her.

She wanted to smile but knew that it carried the potential of ruining the mood, so she simply ran her hand through his hair, soft and gentle, and leaned forward to reply.

"Yamato-san," she glanced once more into his azure eyes, "I don't think I asked you to stop…"

Joy filled his entire being upon receiving her consent, and yet, the passion only intensified at the sexual tones in her voice. He smiled down at her, before growling with desire. Pulling back from her, he instantly began to tug at his belt, throwing it aside before unzipping and pulling down his pants.

Oh Sweet Kami-sama…

_Commando!_

Tremors filled her body as she finally saw him, naked and full, in all of his glory. And dear Kami, he was pierced. It was the most erotic thing she had ever laid her eyes on.

She knew that most women were actually turned off by those piercings, but those women had never experiencing the thrill of a pierced cock being shoved in and out of them. The feeling of the metal inside of her, brushing against her most sensitive part, made the entire session even more enjoyable.

With a loud growl, he watched as her plump lips parted, her breath coming out in quiet gasps, her eyes wide with desire. He watched her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten them, before finally giving in to the urges.

"Oh … yes…I love that."

Her words were whispered gasps of air, barely audible, but they made his entire body jerk with a renewed, savage, onslaught of need so powerful it shook his very bones.

A primitive sound escaped him as he grabbed hold of her hair, rough and aggressive, forcing her to knees. Without warning, he forced her mouth to close around his hard erection.

Desire coursed through him in an infinitely stronger rate, his eyes shutting with ecstasy as he felt her mouth tighten immediately around his cock, her tongue darting around to the touch the thick, hard member. Her mouth was so warm and wet, it felt deliciously erotic, and her piercing, rubbing along the underside, nearly brought him to an orgasm.

Instead, he grasped her hair tightly, slowly pumping his hips so he moved in and out of her oral orifice, growling with pleasurable delight. "Suck it. Suck it or I'll fucking spank you."

She moaned with delight at the rugged tone in his voice, pleasure rippling through her at the commanding, dominant words.

Liquid fire coursed through her body before trickling down her thighs as a dam broke and waves of moisture poured out of her. A moan of delight rose up her throat at the feel of him, hot, hard, and ready, inside of her mouth. The sudden, aggressive move should have made her feel victimized or aghast and appalled at his actions, but, instead, she felt nothing short of absolute desire.

She began to move her mouth up and down his length, absolutely delighted in the way he twitched, the feel of his hands forcefully grasping her hair, and the way the cool air felt on her suddenly heated body.

Pulling away from him, she flicked her tongue across the tip, purposely tracing the piercing, tugging on it just the slightest bit before taking it into her mouth, sucking just on the tip.

He was big, most certainly the biggest she had ever had, and she knew that she would have a slightly difficult time fitting him into her mouth. But she also knew that she would at least try and that it would be quite a delightful experience.

Moving her mouth further down his length, taking her sweet time to swirl her tongue around him every second or so, she reveled in the sound of his groans as she sucked, licked, and bit him closer and closer to his release.

Letting out another, quiet, mewling moan, she trailed a hand down her chest, grasping a breast and kneading it gently, tugging on the nipple, pleasuring herself while she pleasured him.

Whimpering slightly, she sucked harder on him, groaning against his thick length as she swallowed him whole, taking every bit of thick, hard flesh into her mouth and sucking hard, enjoying every single salty taste of the pre-cum that seemed to gush from him.

A hand went up to tease his balls, rolling them between her fingers, delighted in the smooth feel of them in her hand, while her free and uninjured one began to trail down her stomach.

"That's right, play with yourself…." His voice had become lower-pitched, turning into nothing but a primitive growl. "Play with it. Ah!"

His grip tightened on her hair as she began to pump her mouth up and down his shaft, faster, tightening her lips around him as her fingers found her moist heat.

Spreading the folds with her fingertips, she slowly dipped them into her hot core, whimpering loudly as she felt the liquid pouring out of her, dripping onto her hand. He twitched again in her mouth and she moaned, her fingers sliding up, wet from her center, to play with the sensitive bud hidden under the pierced hood.

Her hips jerked forward as she closed her eyes, moaning loudly against his cock as she played with herself, teasing and pinching while sucking and licking him, bringing them both closer to the peaks they yearned to reach.

Letting out a low moan, she slid her fingers deep inside of her core, using not one, but two, to tease that sensitive little spot near her entrance. Another moan escaped and she felt him jerk against her, knowing fully well that the vibrations had caused a sudden rush of pleasure to fill him.

With a loud groan, he pulled himself away, forcing her to stand, yanking her hard by the arms. Without a single word, he pulled her hard against him, crushing his lips to hers as he forced her into the shower. Pressing her against the stall wall, he quickly leaned out, pressed the buttons to turn it on, before slamming the door shut and going back to ravaging her bruised lips.

He growled against her mouth, moving his lips to graze her throat with his teeth, snarling out savagely erotic words.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard. Right here. I'm going to make you fucking scream and beg."

His hands tightly grasped her buttocks, urging his hips harder against hers, her smooth belly soft against his hard erection.

"You like that, don't you? You like it rough. You want it rough and hard…right here…right now. Tell me you want it."

They barely felt the hot spray of the shower pounding against their naked flesh, their eyes locked for a moment, a brief period of time where they paused in their ministrations, waiting patiently for the other's consent.

She knew that it was wrong, the romantic, unrealistic, little girl in her wanted her first time with this loving stranger to be in a bed with rose petals, but she couldn't deny the desire coursing through her.

She wanted him.

No, change that…

She _needed_ him.

The need was so strong, so terrifyingly powerful that it made her legs numb and knees quake in fear. She had felt a strong wanting before, but never had she felt such intense need, such passionate, loving lust that immersed her body in its constant warmth.

Even though the situation was odd, even though their location was not romantic or their words loving, she wanted him to take her for the first time right here, where they were naked and pressed up against one another. She wanted their emotions to be raw and out in the open and she wanted him to know that she needed him as much as he professed that he needed her.

She didn't want to wait any longer.

Leaning forward, she grasped his lower lip with her teeth while her hand found his shaft, sliding up and down it before rubbing the tip with her thumb, reveling in the feel of the thick globule of pre-cum that dripped from him.

She knew that he wanted her with the same increasing need as she wanted him and that, although he was probably just as confused she was at the moment, he wouldn't be able to wait any longer. His needs and emotions had surfaced, raw, exposed, and unshielded, as though he didn't care if she wounded them or not.

He just needed to feel her yielding body against his.

"Well, Lieutenant, I guess I have no choice." She twined her leg around his, lifting her hips in a way that her aching center finally touched a part of his shaft. She leaned forward, this time biting an earlobe.

"I don't want you."

Dismay filled him and he went to turn away, reminding himself that, despite the amount of desire within him, he would respect her choice no matter what.

"I _need_ you."

Triumph roared through him like a violent rush of horses stampeding in a field, his eyes widening with a sense of glory and a joy so strong that it caused his heart to leap frantically with incessant happiness. His hand bruised her jaw as he forced her to face him, swallowing her moan as he claimed her lips for his own while his free hand slowly trailed down her shoulder, finding her breast and teasing the nipple into a hardened peak of ecstasy.

Growling against her lips, he withdrew his mouth from hers, trailing it down her throat, nipping at her collarbone, before tracing the butterfly kisses to her breasts. He greedily suckled on them, unafraid to use teeth and his rough tongue to further draw out her pleasure.

Her body arched against his lips and hands, moans slowly growing louder with each pleasurable action, gooseflesh rising rapidly. Her heart rate increased tenfold and her mind completely shut to anything except for the sheer, absolute bliss he was giving her.

His hand trailed down the flat planes of her stomach, sliding over the slightly curved abdomen before finding the smoothness at the juncture. He growled against her breasts, his finger toyed with the silver ring before sliding them between the folds, tracing the dew-covered petals before finding the source of the moist heat.

Slipping a finger inside her, he groaned from the pleasurable feel of her muscles clenching tightly around him, the moisture dripping down his finger to fall onto the tiled floor.

As he continued to tease her breasts, his finger began the process of slowly moving in and out of her core, relishing in the way her chest tightened as she inhaled loudly. He groaned with glee as her eyes shut with sheer ecstasy while he slid a second finger deep inside of her.

He rolled his tongue around one piercing and then shifted to do the same to the other. His hand moved faster against her sweet center, pummeling his fingers deep inside of her, wanting to feel her come around him, to feel the muscles clenching violently around his fingers as he teased her breasts.

Her head fell back against the tiled wall with a low smack as her hips jerked forward, her vision growing white around the edges as the orgasm neared. Moaning loudly, her eyes shut, lips parting as she gasped, feeling her body tighten until the climax washed over her in a rush. Her entire body tensed as she fell over the precipice, landing into a world of ecstasy as her muscles tightened, clenching rhythmically around his fingers as he ceaselessly slid them in and out, drawing out the orgasm for as long as he could.

When her body slumped back against the wall, he fell to his knees with a growl, parting her legs before pressing his lips against her entrance, sliding his tongue along the same slit his finger had traveled before delving it inside her, licking at the honeyed nectar the dripped from her body.

A sharp cry was drawn from her lips and her hands gripped his hair. Never before had a man used his mouth on her like that; she had always been the one on her knees, giving him pleasure, playing with herself, bringing herself to the first and second orgasms before he spread her legs and took her.

The unfamiliarity of his mouth against her sensitive part brought a new rush of desire so strong that her body instantly wept with need, carrying her faster up the hill of pleasure before tossing her off the edge once more. Blinded by need, her body convulsing around the finger he had slid back in her, she moaned loudly while his tongue teased the pearl hidden by a glimmer of silver.

"Ah … ah … Yamato…oh shit…" She couldn't conjure up a single proper phrase in her mind, she had long ago succumbed to the blindness of passion, and even now, as she tried to create some comprehensible sentence in her mind, she drew a blank.

She was his.

But, at the same time, he was hers.

Relentless, his tongue roughened against her petals, teeth nipping tenderly at the folds while his fingers savagely pounded in her, wanting to feel her clench around him again and again until she died from pleasure.

Cursing, growling, and snarling against her, he nipped at her bud, bringing another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and him as well, as he felt her clenching violently around him. Her fingers were painfully grasping his hair, but he relished the pain, knowing that it was well-earned.

Pulling back, he grasped her hand, pulling her down on top of him as he sat down on the shower floor. Most times he had fucked in the shower, it had always been with the woman up against the wall, or her bending over, her face away from his. But this time, he wanted to feel her on top of him, taking him deep in her body and choosing the rhythm herself.

For some strange reason, he wanted to pleasure her instead of just have her pleasure him. It was weird; usually he had wanted the woman to pleasure him and then, once he had had nearly enough, he would run the final stretch to his release, giving her a glimpse of pleasure in the process. But this time…he wanted them both to feel the passion that was immersing them. He wanted to _share_ his pleasure…

It was the strangest sensation.

As she fell to her knees, forced to straddle his waist or completely stumble over him, she gasped as she felt his erection press against her wet folds. The water streamed down their bodies, mixing with sweat, creating a lovely sensation that simply added to the need within them.

Leaning over him, she captured his lips with hers this time around, this time lulling the kiss into one of tenderness, teasing his tongue with hers gently, no longer yearning to feel the crushing, bruising sensation of his lips overpowering hers. No, she wanted it softer and gentler; she wanted him to feel her soft and yielding beneath his kiss.

Slowly, her hand snaked between their bodies whilst they were enraptured by the tenderness of the kiss. She gently grasped his hilt, sliding her hand up and down the length, trying to egg him into sliding deep within her body, to bring them both to a climax created by the most intense pleasure either of them have ever felt.

"Lieutenant…"

He shook his head, trying to fight back the waves of ecstasy that filled him each time her hand slid up and down his length.

"That's not my name…"

For a brief moment, she wondered if he was one of those men who, in the middle of sex, would make the woman repeat his name over and over again, telling them to "Say my name," and if they didn't, he would … do something. She wasn't really sure anymore; the sudden feel of his hands on her breasts had completely removed the thoughts from her mind.

Deciding to play with this sudden, little game, she leant forward and took his earlobe into her mouth, suckling on it, flicking it a few times with her tongue before speaking softly into his ear. "Well then, what do you _want_ me to call you?"

He could have come right then and there if it hadn't been for the sudden pressure at the base of his cock, signaling to him that she knew the exact pressure points to push on that would stop a man from coming.

Growling, he moved his head back, staring into the amber orbs that gazed down at him, watching as pleasure filled them when they roamed over his naked and wet form. He knew that she was delighted in finally being in control, that the new sensations were bringing mixed feelings, making her wonder just what she sexually preferred. It pleased him to know that he had brought on such an intense ecstasy in her that it had mixed up all of her comprehensible thoughts.

He leaned forward, licking the side of her throat, before nibbling lightly on her jaw. His lips curled into a small smile as he felt her head tilt back with need, and he let out another, quieter, growl.

"Well, Mimi … I believe that I would like you to call me Yamato." He nipped at her throat. "It's not too hard now, is it?"

Her fingers twitched over his erection, and she smiled in return, her lips curling into the most seductive, bewitching grin he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Well, _Yamato_, I believe we have a problem." Her eyes focused on the hard appendage in her hand. "I believe that it is very, _very_, hard…"

Dear Kami-sama, please, please,_please_ give him strength…

He waited …

She squeezed, licking her lips…

No strength…

"Fuck me," he groaned, before pulling her head down, bruising her sensitive lips with his in a searing, passionate kiss that would have consumed her entire body if she had not felt him slide deftly and quickly into her depths.

She flung her head back with a sharp cry, her hips instantly rotating against him at the feel of the rough and sudden invasion of her body. Kami-sama, he was the largest she had ever taken and she was inexplicably tight. It was almost painful, and yet, any pain she felt was either doused by pleasure or simply added to it, making the ecstasy augment to a near burning point.

She was so tight and so wet. He fought not to close his eyes as he clenched his teeth, biting back growls and curses, reveling in the feel of her sweet, moist core slowly vibrating around him. He knew that she was flexing her muscles, testing to see just how he would react to the feel.

His fingers dug into her hips and he slammed his hips up again, meeting her with a hard, rough thrust, which turned into a barrage of thrusts and jerks. The sound of their flesh slapping against one another was drowned by the throaty cries and primitive growls that rose in the shower.

He pushed her so she could lie on top of him, his hands finding a nice, hot grip on her buttocks, helping her move her hips up and down against his in a hard, fast pace brought on by a passion so intense it nearly killed them.

Never before in her life had she felt so incredibly complete with having a man deep inside of her body. Never had she felt so empty when he withdrew, only to cry out with joy as he slid, hard and fast, back inside of her to fill the empty space. Not once in her life had she ever felt the first inklings of something other than lust become drawn into their sex-crazed states.

What was it?

Why did she feel like that?

It was so strange…

And yet, she loved it.

"Yama … Yamato …" She panted between words, trying to gather enough breath to at least say his name. He was moving harder and faster within her, the silver piercing only adding to the pleasure as he expertly maneuvered his thrusts so the ball would rub right against the most sensitive areas of her core.

Harder.

Faster.

Rougher.

Harder…

So it endlessly continued, in a cycle that was filled with a passion so strong it shook them to their cores and made their bodies gleam with water and sweat. They became completely unaware of their surroundings, focusing only on each other, only on the needful lust that was accumulating between them, bringing them closer and closer to _la petite mort. _A death that they would surely, one they would take advantage of and use to only further increase their pleasure.

Already, she had experienced the freefall several times, her muscles tightening around him like a million fingers, teasing and massaging him. At one point, the fingers had been so pleasurable he had needed to pull out, begging Kami-sama for enough strength to let the pleasure last for an eternity.

However, Kami-sama had different plans.

He shouted her name, his voice hoarse and deep with pleasure, as he felt her tighten around him, bringing him to the strongest climax he had ever felt. His cock twitched, pulsating within her as the fingers brought on his orgasm and made it last for an eternity, sending spurt after spurt deep inside of her body, which greedily guzzled it up and asked for more.

It was only when she fell forward, her head resting against his shoulder as her body became limp, that he, too, fell from his high and felt his entire body relax with a satisfaction of the likes he had never felt before in his entire life.

It was oddly comforting, lying there under the hot spray, relaxing in his arms, letting her eyes slowly shut as she felt wave after wave of tension leave her body and relaxation take its place.

As she slowly began to drift off, her lips gently, lazily, kissing at his collarbone, slowly, reality came back into play and she opened her eyes, arching a brow at the sight of his head resting against the walls, his blue eyes shut, lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

"Yamato … why were you looking for me…?"

His entire body jerked up, and she let out a low moan as she felt him slip out of her sensitive core. His eyes widened with surprise, and then instantly switched to self-annoyance and guilt.

"Oh shit."

**Here we go. Somewhat short, not really sweet in a sense, but deliciously lemony! I hoped that all of you enjoyed it, and I tried making it as sexual as possible without altering the FF(dot)netCriticalSexNazis (you know, the random reviewer who hates Mimato and then pretends that they became offended by this 'sexually explicit scene' in order to have it removed? Yeah, those douchebags.**

**So yes, if any of you find it too sexual, please tell me and I shall edit it so that my story is not removed ******** (Which is a BITCH!)**

**Anyways, yeah, a slice of lemon pie for EVERYBODY WHO REVIEWS! And I know, it took me longer than it should have…but if you guys have seen my school and work schedule for the past couple of weeks, you would all see why I want to die (Test/Essay/Essay/Test/Test and then…Work/Work/Work/Work…and it goes on…)**

**So yeah, semester is over next Friday…but I might not be writing for a couple of days, as I'm getting wisdom teeth out soon, so I will be either A) too fucked on meds to write something comprehensible or B) too fucked on meds to stay awake long enough to write something comprehensible. **

**Yeah, I know, it sucks.**

**Anyways, I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter. I am going to start typing up the next chapter real soon, like…now…so I don't make you guys wait TOO long. **

**Please do not forget my review/post rule, thanks!!**

**- Jâne!**


	16. A Crimson Nightmare

**Note (sometime early December): Oh my goodness, when I was writing Yamato's part below, I was listening to Dir en Grey's "Ain't Afraid to Die" and I just wanted to CRY! I was like, "OMG! Perfect song! Perfect friggin' song! I'm going to sob." But I didn't….because I was sitting on the train and I would've looked really strange. **

**Second note (middle of January): Holy shit, it's been like a month since I started this chapter, and I'm only finishing it now…Kick me in the face, please. Apologies will be below, as they will take up much space. **

**Third note (January 31****st****): please feel free to kick me once I have posted this. But, please wait until the cold that is torturing my body has passed. Then you can kick me.**

**Chapter 16**

**A Crimson Nightmare**

Silence…

That was the only thing heard in the car as they drove down the bustling streets of Odaiba. Amber eyes looked out of the window, watching the world pass them by, the eyes that turned at the sight of the red and blue flashing brightly in the darkening afternoon light.

It was only the second week of November, the 13th to be exact, and yet, it was already cooling incredibly fast. Rain had begun to pelt down from the gray clouds, frightening the pedestrians into lifting papers or trying to find some sort of cover.

The mind behind the amber eyes wonder, briefly, just why one would shy away from a bit of water. She enjoyed the rain, standing under the downpour, eyes shut, reveling in the feel of the droplets trickling against her skin. Yet, so many people were afraid of getting a little wet because they did not want to ruin their hair or make-up, or even their incredibly expensive Armani suits.

People were becoming so terribly materialistic.

Sighing softly, she noted that she, too, had become somewhat materialistic, but, at the moment, it wasn't the only thought plaguing her mind with worry.

The car felt too small; the space between them far too limited for her to feel completely at ease and comfortable.

Sure, they had just experienced the most passionate, ultimate act in their lives, the feel of their bodies rubbing up against each others as wave after wave of lust filled them. But now, once it was all done and over with and reality was finally beginning to set in, the worries were back and her mind was continuously drawing a blank as to why she had done it.

Why? What had made her want to be in his arms and perform the ultimate sexual act? Why had her mind shut down to all normal thought and succumbed, so easily, to him?

Another sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. What should she do now? Never before had she done this with someone she knew, with someone who might expect a relationship. She had just ventured into unfamiliar territory and she wasn't sure how she was going to get home.

It felt strange…to be sitting there in the car, right beside him, having just moments ago been lying in his arms, bare to all the world, relaxing after the most passionate encounter in her life. Was he feeling the same thing? Was he wondering where they would go now? Or was he simply relishing in the fact that he had slept with another woman?

Whiskey eyes looked at him.

She couldn't tell …

Her conscience was back; it was telling her, repeatedly, that she had done the wrong thing. They were investigating a case and, once it was solved, they would no longer know each other. Doing that was a horrible idea. How could they have been meant to be? It made no sense.

But yet … the butterflies in her stomach told her that it made perfect sense.

She didn't want to do, how to react, or what was going to happen. Was he expecting her to just go on with her daily life after he had taken her for the ride of a lifetime? Or was he going to ask for something more?

Those were the two main questions of the day, it seemed. What was going to happen in the next ten minutes, when they arrived at the crime scene?

She wasn't sure, and she hated being so horribly unsure…

* * *

He sat in the seat, focusing on the road and not the thoughts that swirled around in his mind. What had he done? Of course, it had to be his fault; he had initiated the entire thing. He was certainly the one to blame.

Why had he done it?

What was it about her that had made him lose control and take her the way he had? Had it been the look in her eyes? The way she spoke? Or had it been the obvious fact that she had been naked and he happened to have a penis and was interested in women? So many questions and, yet, none of them had any answers.

He gritted his teeth, his hands griping the steering wheel harder as he turned the corner. He was so damn confused; it had felt so right and now, once it was all done and over with, it felt so … strange.

Certainly she would want out of it right away; she had her own life to live, and being in a relationship with a cop wasn't an easy feat. He heard the constant arguments between Taichi and Sora enough to know that they weren't always on good terms with one another. Sora constantly worried about him, while Taichi was always just trying to do his job and make a decent enough living in order to, one day, be able to support the two of them and a future child. He knew that, deep down, Taichi really cared about Sora, but Sora was always putting his occupation between them.

Yamato feared that, if he tried to establish any sort of relationship between himself and Mimi, it would be the same thing. They would constantly argue and rarely see each other; her job was nearly as demanding as his. She was constantly asked to go in and help with a client, and she spent long hours in the office afterwards, looking over files and examining previous and current cases to see if she could do something to help her patients. She was dedicated to her work, just as he was dedicated to his. The question was; if they tried to establish a relationship, would they be just as dedicated to one another?

Sighing softly, he tried not to close his eyes and rub the bridge of his nose as a sudden burst of frustration filled him.

Something inside of him was asking, begging, for him to, at the very least, try and establish some sort of bond between them. To let her know that it would not be a one-night stand and that he would treat her as an individual. He wanted to let her know that he wasn't going to hurt her or use her, and that he would care for her as if they had known each other their entire lives.

Something inside of him screamed for him to tell her that he…

No, he couldn't go there just yet. It was far too early for him to be thinking such things. That word, that simple little word, held so much power that it actually made him quake at the thought of it. He knew that he had never felt this way towards any other individual he had met, and that the way he felt towards her was something completely new and different. He knew that he wanted to expose his emotions and mind to her, just as a sign of letting her know how she affected him and how he trusted her.

But there was also something inside of him, perhaps it was his sense of reason, his conscience, that was telling him that it was far too early in the relationship for him to be thinking such things. It was strange, odd and new, and yet, he felt as though his common sense knew more about it than the rest of his mind and heart.

What does somebody do when their heart fought with their sense of reason? Whose side should they take?

He just wasn't sure of himself anymore…

What do you do when you think that you are in love?

There, he said it, he finally admitted it. He, or at least he believed, was in love with this woman he had known for one month. He was in love with this charming, beautiful, strong and determined woman who had, somehow, let him into her shell and beckoned him to come into her arms in the ultimate act of passion.

He was in love with her, and he couldn't fight it.

He needed to, at least, know that she felt the same way about him.

And if she didn't?

Then, he felt, everything joyful in his life would completely cease to exist and the light that had bloomed would die out, leaving him blind to all beauty and love.

The final question was: when was he going to be ready to risk his heart for the sake of hers?

* * *

Where were they?

Had he killed her?

What was taking them so long?

Why was he pacing?

Taichi stopped in the middle of his pacing, noting that the remainder of the officers on scene was staring strangely at him. Throwing back his shoulders, trying to appear strong, determined, and focused, he gave them a glare signaling that they should return to their work. Noting the way they shuffled back to their cameras and notepads, he smiled softly to himself before letting his shoulders slump.

Had Yamato strangled Mimi?

No, it wasn't possible. Yamato would never do such a thing to someone he cared so much about.

The smile played at his lips a second time.

Yes, Taichi knew that Yamato had, at the very least, some feelings towards Mimi-kun, and they were a little more than friendly. Well, they were friendly, but they were…He stopped himself before he wound up as confused as blonde in a math class.

All he knew was that Yamato cared deeply for Mimi, and it was growing more and more evident by the day. He knew that Yamato, the moment he heard that Mimi's cell phone was off, he feared the worst and had gone off on his own to ensure Mimi's safety.

He recalled the way Yamato had sat in the car after the attack a week ago…

Yamato had appeared so frail and shaken, as though someone close to him had just died before his eyes. It had shaken Taichi so much, put so much fear within him, that he had, for the first time in a long time, taken the wheel, and kept glancing at Yamato throughout the ride. The blond had obviously been terribly shaken, and it had hurt him to see someone he cared about injured.

He knew that Yamato had blamed himself and no one else for what had happened.

He knew that Yamato's mind was still filled with all of the 'what if's,' and that the worry was constant and plagued him with nightmares.

He also knew that if Yamato knew about the nightmares Mimi was having, he would have a fit and live in Mimi's closet to ensure her safety.

He was thankful that Sora had been kind enough to at least tell him – Taichi – about the nightmares, but he just wished that he would be able to tell Yamato. It bothered him to be keeping a secret like this, especially when it involved someone Yamato loved.

Ah, yes, that little word. That tiny, little, four-lettered word that held the strength of a million giants in its meaning. He knew that the word was slowly filling Yamato's mind and that Yamato was most probably warring with himself about it.

Taichi remembered when he first fell in love. It was, of course, with Sora, and they had been about four. Of course, it had not really counted as love, seeing as they had been too young to understand its meaning, but he recalled the way his heart thudded against his chest and how he had never wanted to leave the girl alone. He had fought his entire life to protect, to hide her from all of the pains in the world, so much so that in high school, Sora had nearly shoved him away from her. She had feared that he was pulling her back from her aspirations.

He learnt a hard lesson then, realizing that he could be able to love with the knowledge that he would not always be able to protect the ones he loved. It hit him hard, but it was a great epiphany, for it helped him fully understand the woman he loved, and understand the meaning behind that small word.

He only wondered if Yamato would come to grasp the meaning of it sooner or later.

Speaking of Yamato…

The blond's head popped out from the car, the door slamming shut, and Taichi huddled in his jacket as a cool breeze swept across the air, sending the few, tiny snowflakes aflutter to land in his hair. He watched as Yamato adjusted his jacket, and then as the blond went over to the woman standing by the passenger door.

Mimi…

He watched still as Yamato pulled Mimi off to the side, tilted his head towards her, and they began a quiet discussion of their own.

Maybe Yamato was a fast learner…

* * *

"I need to speak to you."

She nodded slowly, understanding what he meant in his words. It felt early, almost too early, but, at the same time, she felt as though they needed this. They needed to clarify things, even just a little bit, just so that they could get on with their lives.

She followed him to a little area close by, a spot where no one stood and no one would go to since it was now occupied. Leaning against the nearest wall, adjusting her jacket, she looked up at him and found herself, like always, mesmerized by his blue eyes.

"Tachikawa-san…"

"Please, just call me Mimi-san. At least we'll be on first name basis now. Especially since…" She broke off, not wanting to bring it up too quickly, knowing that, maybe, he would be able to discuss it without making it sound so … sexual.

"I, well…"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't dare profess any feelings towards her just yet. He just … couldn't give her the choice to leave him. Something inside of him lurched at the thought of being separated from her for the rest of his life and he knew that it was his heart. But, deep down, he knew that she would not want to be kept back from her dreams and aspirations. Hell, they were in their twenties, for Kami's sake, and they still had their lives ahead of them. It was highly possible that what happened between them was caused by nothing but lust…

His heart wrenched and he fought hard not to wince in pain as it lanced through his heart and body.

Deep down…

He didn't want to let her go…

But, if she chose to want something other than him…

He would have to…

She stared at him with her doe-like, whiskey eyes, mouth slightly agape in confusion, and he wanted to kiss her. Not hard and passionate, but soft and tender. He wanted to just hold her in his arms, consumed her with kisses and embraces and just tell her how he felt.

But he couldn't do it unless she wanted it.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, ranging from a variety of highs to a myriad of lows, telling her to do this and then, seconds later, to do that. Her conscience was screaming at her, telling her that she was immoral, horrible, and that she was not falling in love with him.

Her heart was telling her otherwise…

Deep down, she just wanted to be held in his arms. To fall asleep in his warm embrace that she had felt only for a few minutes. She had felt so comfortable, so at ease in his hold, and she had never wanted him to let her go.

But…

There were too many buts.

Something within her told her to, at the very least, give him a try. Even her conscience slowly abated enough to tell her that they could remain friends…so long as they didn't screw in showers anymore. But, well, he had not even given her the choice yet. He hadn't opened his mouth and professed any kind of love for her.

Did he really care about her?

Of course he did; why would he have been watching out for her the past few days? Why was he calling her every day to check in on her, making it seem as though she might have a break in the case? But … why wasn't he telling her this? Why wasn't he telling her that she was always on his mind? That she was the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life?

Was it possible that he didn't want her…?

But, she knew that she wanted him.

Right?

Gnawing on her lower lip, she wasn't sure what she really wanted anymore…but, she did know that she would probably be unable to live without him. Even though she barely knew him, he made her feel secure and comfortable, relaxed and more herself than anyone had ever made her feel in the past.

She wanted him to stay…

It was a strange realization; she had never come to one like that before in her life, and yet, here she was, telling herself that she finally wanted some sort of a relationship. She was supposed to be the woman who had one-night stands, the one who didn't care about the man unless he had some sort of STI. But that was it; other than that, she really did not give a damn.

But this time, she wanted him to go to her and tell her about his day, she wanted him to laugh with her, to watch a chick flick and laugh _at_ her when she cried, and she wanted him to hold her and tell her that life was a lot better than it seemed.

She wanted him to love her…

But before that would happen, she knew that he would need the courage to give her the choice she wanted. She wanted to hear him give her the choice, to have him tell her that he was willing to love her, even from a distance, and not stop her from achieving her dreams. She wanted to know that he would support her in any decision she made, even if it meant losing her.

But what if he never gave her the choice? What if he just walked away, leaving her alone and in the dark?

Moistening her lips, a sudden onslaught of fear gripped her, nearly choking her lungs as she became terrified she would be a victim of a panic attack. Slowly, steadying her breathing, she swallowed thickly and tried to push the fear as far down as possible.

What was she afraid of?

She could only take one guess…

Rejection.

She had been used and rejected before in the past, like any other woman in the world, and she, like every other woman out there, was wary of most men who dared showed some kindness and sexual need for her.

But…he seemed different…somehow…

"Mimi-san, I, uh," he waved his hand, a light gesture, making it appear as though the situation was rather meaningless in his mind, "well, we better get going to the case. Uh, would you mind keeping what, well, happened between us a secret? I just don't want you to get in trouble or anything…"

He hung his head. He couldn't do it. He could march right into a room filled with criminals with loaded guns, he could throw himself in front of a car to stop it from killing a young girl, he could do all of these courageous things but he couldn't tell her that he wanted something more.

He wanted her, but he just couldn't find the strength to tell her that…

So he gave up.

* * *

"For Kami's sake! I was so close to calling the police and sending them over! What the hell took you guys so long, and it had better be a good explanation!"

Taichi was furious; their Commander had called and had bitched specifically at Taichi, and, even though he was glad to watch them talk in the distance, he was actually rather irritated. The bodies were decomposing and starting to smell despite the cold, making a few of the rookies rather sick. One had nearly puked on the bodies if Taichi had shoved a bucket under his mouth.

Sighing heavily, Taichi ran a hand through his already unruly hair before resuming the pacing he had been doing since before their arrival. At first, he had been plagued by comical thoughts, silly images and feelings, ideas that swirled in his mind and made him giggle. But, after a while of being in charge, he had grown more and more frustrated, and finally came to realize just why Yamato was cranky by the end of the work day.

Why did there seem to be so many rookies with him today? And why did it have to start snowing? It was the second freakin' week of November, for Kami's sake!

Brushing a few stray snowflakes from his hair, he strode forward and gesticulated sharply in the air. "Yamato-kun, I know that you are the Lieutenant and all, but, as your friend and as the leading Detective on this case, I would suggest that you try and focus a bit more on this case. You took over an hour just to go to the gym, get her, and come back here. And, for some reason, the damn Commander seems to think that I enjoy babysitting a bunch of rookies on a Class A assignment!"

Mimi stood in the background, trying to stay out of Taichi's ranting and ravings, knowing fully well that he had a tendency to go off on tangents and blurt out information that others wished remained private. Especially the information concerning bystanders; he usually tried to use them as a way of proving his point.

Yamato, on the other hand, crossed his arms and frowned down at the Detective. "Yagami-san, you know, just as well as I do, that when we are in charge, we are supposed to take care of the crime scene. We hold a lot of responsibility, and you shouldn't be letting rookies nearly compromise the scene like that." Sighing heavily, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. A headache was on the horizon, mostly due to inability to function as a normal, sentimental human being. "How much have you gotten done in my absence?"

Growling lowly with frustration, he knew that he should have expected that Yamato would be cranky; it was rather obvious that he hadn't told Mimi he cared and he was frustrated with himself.

"Well,_Lieutenant_, we got the area barricaded off, chased away the vultures with a few 'No comments,' and managed to get most of the photographing done as well as check for fingerprints on the surrounding area. We still have to scourge the place for clues, and we need you and Tachikawa-san to look over the bodies and describe them so that the coroner can take them away."

"Why didn't you take the notes about the bodies?" Yamato began walking swiftly towards a parked cruiser that had its trunk open, an array of latex items exposed to the chilling air.

"Although we normally do have the lead on scene do it, I felt that it would be best to wait for Tachikawa-san, as she needs to see them in their environment to be able to properly add information to her profile."

She smiled softly at Taichi, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "_Arigato gozaimasu,_ Yagami-san. I appreciate it."

"No problem."

Yamato tugged on a pair of latex gloves, handing another pair to the brunette standing by them. "Yes, I suppose it was a good choice." He tugged on a pair of latex foot-covers. "Well, let's get going then, we don't have much time to waste at all."

* * *

Squatting down in front of the body, thankful for having worn pants instead of a skirt, she peered down at the dead woman. The sun was already beginning to set, meaning that the bodies had been outside for well over twelve hours. She was actually very thankful for the cold; it had slowed down the process of decomposition by quite a bit and it helped alleviate some of the smell. Some of the rookies were complaining loudly, either stating that the body smelt too strong or that it was growing too cold out.

She supposed that none of them had ever suffered through a winter in New York.

Her mind drifting to thoughts about what Canadian winters were really like, she shrugged them to the back of her mind, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.

Look over the body and see if the actions match what the person she had profiled would do.

The throat had been slashed and the face had turned blue. The body was frigid, and the hair hung limply, like an ebony halo around the pale blue face. The shuttered eyes had once been surrounded by long lashes, while the lips were full and once soft and warm to touch. The cheekbones high and sharp, and, at the thought of the word sharp, she reminded herself that this woman's body had been desecrated by a sharp object…

Sighing softly, she looked over the wounds, careful not to touch or move the body, and listened as Yamato relayed the information on the male to Miyako, who had been called in to make up for the lost work caused by the rookies.

Noting down that the woman had been, like the others, tied up; she placed it under the profile she had already established. This time, however, she noted, through the bruising around the woman's mouth, that there as the possibility that she had been gagged. Jotting it down, she wrote a memo to remind herself to mention it to Yamato and have the coroner check for any substances in the woman's throat or mouth.

Standing up slowly, a breeze rushed through the alleyway, sending coats aflutter in the wind. She had noted that Yamato had gotten his jacket from his car, the ankle-length, black trench coat made him appear all the more alluring. Cursing herself for having only brought a suit jacket with her, she buttoned it up over her blouse, wishing that she had had some sense that morning to bring some sort of a jacket.

How was she supposed to know that it would snow?

'_Listen to the news, baka.'_

Of course, that is exactly what Sora would have said to her.

Shivering slightly, she moved around the body, noting even the way the woman was positioned. She examined the bruises, noting their shape and size, and looked over the areas that had become saturated with blood from the multiple wounds on the body. She looked at the way the clothes were torn, where the clothes were torn, and realized that some had been torn with brute strength, while others had been cut. Wondering if some of them as been originally made to look like they were cut, she jotted this down so as to avoid later confusion and being proven wrong that they were cut by the killer in two different ways.

Twirling the pen in her hands, she lightly lifted the shirt of the woman, trying to get a better view of the stomach and rib cage. That's when she saw the large, gaping cut along the woman's abdomen.

Jerking back, the world swirling around her as nausea hit her hard; she took quick, steady breaths to calm her head. Moving closer, she glanced at the wound, trying to figure out if it had been done with a quick swipe of the blade or not.

That's when she saw it…

It was small, only a tiny thing, but already it was beginning to develop a small head and tiny limbs. The thin cord was still attached to whatever was inside of the woman, she could barely see it, but she knew that it had to be there…

She could now see the walls, ripped and shredded, hidden amongst the mass of intestines, she saw them. She knew that he had wanted to see it, to make sure that he had ended its possible existence.

The world spun around her as she stood up slowly, her hands shaking so violently that the paper shook and threatened to fall in the mass of blood underneath her. It was so red … and, at one point in time, it had moved and its chest had beaten with life…

The woman must have been around 8 to 15 weeks pregnant…

The realization made her take a step backward, her stomach lurching violently as it threatened to rise and spill past her throat. Never before in her life had she even considered such a violent and cruel crime. Never, not once in her life, had she seen such a small, lifeless thing, having been literally torn from its mother.

A warm hand on her shoulder made her spin violently around, jerking and slipping on the ground, her foot covers giving her no friction whatsoever. Grasping onto the wall behind her for support, her chest heaved with each gasping breath as her wide, amber eyes focused on a pair of anxious, blue ones.

"Tachikawa-san, are you okay?"

Yamato…it was only Yamato…

She stepped back slightly, a part of her fearing contact with him, while another yearning so terribly it sobbed with pain at the loss of his warmth. Her foot made contact, a dull, soft thud, and she turned her head, eyes widening as she realized that she had just hit the woman's body.

Her eyes fell on the shorn abdomen, gazing specifically on the tiny, red item that was only an inch or so in size. Her stomach churned, twisting violently, and her hand flew to her mouth in protest.

"Tachikawa-san?"

Spinning around, she shoved past Yamato, fighting her way through the police before, with great luck, finding a small alcove of some sort near the alleyway's entrance, partially hidden from the wavering eyes and probing hands.

One hand resting on the cool, brick wall, the other half wrapped around her stomach, she let her body convulse as wave after wave of nausea filled her, overwhelmed her, and passed. Her mind, although focused on the task at hand, was still filling her unconscious with images of the two-month old fetus.

She swore that she could have seen a few fingers developing…

A violent wave shook her, nearly forcing her to her knees and into the pool of waste she had formed at her feet. Shaking uncontrollably, she wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the wall, waiting for the last few waves to pass. Closing her eyes, she let her temple rest on the bricks, swallowing thickly ever few seconds, wishing that there was some way to wash the terrible taste of bile from her mouth.

She was dimly aware as a pair of warm arms wrapped gently around her shoulders, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. She leaned back against the embrace, not caring who it was, knowing deep down that the person holding her would protect her.

Rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand, she did not dwell on the fact that she had just vomited in public, she did not think about who held her or why, she just let the soft rain fall against her face, feeling it cool down slowly. She did not think about the butchered woman, lying in the cold street, stomach torn, her unborn child exposed and dead. She did not think about the cold table, upon which an old friend of hers would lie until the investigation came to a close. She did not think about the madman loose, preying on the weak and unsuspecting, hunting them down mercilessly and cruelly in the darkness. She did not think about the troubles of the world, her own troubles, or anything of the likes.

She only thought about the warm arms holding her, keeping her secure and safe, protecting her from all of the dangers beyond this realm of relaxation and beauty that she had pulled herself into. She dwelled only on the love that she felt in the embrace, a love that she feared to understand, but knew that, in time, she would come to accept and return.

She listened to the rustling of the men and women in the real world, listened to their footsteps and soft voices, and she did not think about what they could be doing or focus on what they were saying. She was in her own world, a world where a nameless wonder held her and loved her for the rest of eternity, preventing all horrific events from happening and tainting the beauty of her imaginary realm.

The sharp wind swept down the alley, harsh against her face, but she only felt the cool drops landing on her chest, noting that they became increasingly colder by the second. It was only when they became nearly frigid did she open her eyes and allow the grey world of reality to fill her mind once more.

Snowflakes.

She knew then that, even though there was darkness and cruelty in the world, it would be white and pure in the morning, untouched and unblemished by malice and hatred. A world she could enjoy and love.

"Tachikawa-san, are you all right?"

She had heard the words before, only a few moments earlier, and slowly, she turned her head.

Blue crystals, as deep as the oceans, and as brilliantly clear as the cloudless sky. Soft, tender, and loving, almost like the arms wrapped around her body.

"Ishida-san…"

His grip tightened around her at the soft, faint tone of her voice. She sound so terrifyingly weak and fearful, as though she had just awaken from a horrid nightmare, and visions of the dream were still faintly within her mind.

"Tachikawa-san, can you tell me what's wrong?"

He knew that the simple words, the simple asking of the question, would not heal the sudden wounds that had burst forth in her mind. He wished that his words could wrap her up in their loving care and warmth, demonstrating to her just how he felt.

Instead, he was a cowardly creature, afraid of rejection, and the possibility that she might just tear his heart out and lead his chest gaping and bare.

But for now, until he got enough courage to make this proclamation of love, and show her the rawest form of his emotions, he could at least care for her. He could still try to hold her and ask her what was wrong. He could tease her, just a bit, and he could try his damn hardest to make her smile.

Right now, all he wanted was to make her stop trembling and to tell him just what horrifying images were plaguing her mind.

She wanted to shut her eyes, but she knew that if she closed them, against the darkness, she would see crimson, a pool of it forming around the tiny, now lifeless figure. Instead, she swallowed thickly, fighting back the sudden urge to gag and vomit.

As her hands began to tremble uncontrollably, she tried her hardest to ignore them, to fight the trembling back before it consumed her entire body.

She focused on his eyes.

And felt the oceans bathe her in a warm love so deep she _wanted_ to drown in it.

Courage filled her veins at the sudden knowledge, appearing from somewhere deep within her cold body, filling her with warmth as it spread from her heart.

Swallowing once more, making sure that she would speak and not vomit all over him, she spoke with a shaking voice, "Ishida-san…the woman, she … she was pregnant…"

Her eyes wanted to close at the painful, sudden memory, but she fought it. She needed to see the blue crystals that gave her so much strength.

He nodded slowly at her statement, wondering, possibly, just what she had seen that might have caused her to…

He stilled, his arms tightening around her body as tension rippled through his muscles. Horror filled his eyes just at the mere thought of what this woman had just seen.

He had thought that the crime scene would have been like the others, something she had, fortunately, quickly gotten used to. But this new discovery made things change drastically.

"Yagami-san, get your ass over here now!"

* * *

It had been one long-ass day.

She literally threw her shoes to the farthest corner in the main entrance, slipping her feet into a comfortable pair of leopard print slippers, before making her way to her bedroom upstairs.

She heard the telltale signs of Sora cooking in the kitchen, and called back a cheerful hello to her friend, mentioning that she was going to take a shower.

Once she was clean, she planned on sleeping until the world was destroyed and love never once tiptoed into her mind.

Throwing her purse and gym bag onto her bed, she proceeded to tug off her work jacket, tossing it so it joined her purse and gym bag. As she began to unbutton her blouse, she paused in the middle of the process, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Slowly, she moved over to her bureau, noticing that a few drawers had been left slightly ajar, some clothes hanging suspiciously over the edges.

Fighting back the sudden images of a stranger in her room, she tried to replace it with Sora, searching for that shirt Mimi had kidnapped weeks earlier for a meeting.

It had to have been Sora; they always shared clothes, and, besides, why would someone else go through her room?

A growl rose in her throat as the image of Ishida Yamato filled her mind.

Had the bastard gotten a search warrant of some sort? Was he the culprit? He had been standing right where she was, going through her clothes, touching her underwear…

She shuddered at the vivid image of his hands running along her thongs, touching the silky and lacey materials, imagining her wearing those and nothing else…

"Stop it!"

She cursed herself, forcing the images away from her mind, running her hands through the hair she had let fall loose only an hour before.

She had to stop thinking about him. This afternoon had to have been a mistake, something that she should never have done. But the feel of his arms around her, his hands touching her so intimately…it all felt so right.

"It's wrong…it's all wrong," she growled, trying to pry her mind away from such sexual thoughts.

No, they weren't sexual.

They were of love.

Ready to punch just about anything, the oddest thing pulled her out of her self-hated reveries and back to reality.

A few strands of hair fluttered up and played with her face.

Brushing them out of the way, the hairs on the back of her neck rose once more as a great feeling of unease and dread filling her body. Turning slowly around, she looked past her bed to the balcony, the glass doors of which were ajar, letting in a cool breeze.

Her heart fell to her stomach, and her stomach plummeted to her feet. Cold dread washed over her, eyes widening as she felt all the blood rush from her face to join her stomach. Her chest tightened, a sudden feeling of insecurity making her body begin to shake uncontrollably.

It hadn't been Sora or Yamato.

Someone had broken into her room…

Impossible! Such a thing could never have happened; they had a frigging security system installed just a while ago!

But Sora had been home all day.

And Sora always set the alarm when she was home alone.

But, Tachikawa-san, the alarm had not been set when she got home…

"Oh dear Kami-sama…"

She rushed to the doors, slamming them shut and locking them tightly, fearing that something cruel and demented would crawl into her room from the black night outside.

She looked out of the window, expecting to see a pair of yellow or green eyes glowing from the tree by the balcony, bracing herself for the possibility of the creature lunging itself at the glass and smashing the doors into a million, brilliant shards.

Cursing herself for having too wild of an imagination, she yanked the curtains shut, grateful that the thick, crimson drapes blocked out the darkness outside.

If she couldn't see that darkness she could pretend that nothing creepy had crawled into her room and into her drawers.

What if they had planted a poisonous animal in her underwear drawer?

A scream lodged in her throat, her chest rising and falling quicker with each passing second, fear causing her mind to lose all sense of reality, forcing her into a realm of imagination.

What if they had planted cameras in her room and were watching her at this very second?

Oh Kami-sama, oh Kami-sama, oh Dear Kami-sama…

She was going to have a panic attack…

No, no, calm down Mimi, calm down and think clearly for a moment.

She had to call Yamato-san…

No! Calling him would mean that he would come to her house…he would see where she lived and be able to find her at any time…

If he came over, they might just wind up naked and in her bed, forgetting about the possible burglary, thinking only of each other in the most intimate of ways…

No! No! And no! She couldn't call him…she shouldn't call him…it would only lead to her self-destruction; she would give in to his loving touch and say the words that were constantly rising up her throat each time she looked at him.

Saying those things would be the end of her…

No, she thought as she began to fumble through her drawers, she couldn't tell Yamato-san, or he would go all protective, macho-man on her ass and remove all independence and freedom from her life.

She wouldn't dare tell Sora; the poor girl would worry herself sick, and would demand that she, at least, tell Taichi.

But in telling Taichi, she would be, indirectly, telling Yamato about it, no matter how much Mimi demanded that Yamato not be told…

She couldn't tell anyone; they would worry too much, and it would always lead to Yamato finding out.

And Yamato couldn't find out, and that was the surest she had ever been since meeting him.

* * *

He had been sloppy.

He should have paid more attention to the time…

But no, he had just barely made it out, jumping to the ground just as the lights in her room had turned on.

But, he had been successful.

He pressed a pair of pink, lacey, boy-shorts to his nose, inviting the sweet scent to consume his senses.

Oh Kami-sama, it just got better each and every time…

But, now, would there be a next time?

This time, he had been far too careless, and had come far too close to being caught.

But he had needed to make her pay.

His lips turned into an angry scowl, his feet dangling as he set in the tree he always sat in, and his fist clenched tightly around the underwear.

He had watched her in the gym.

Oh, it had been a delight, watching her breasts bounce up and down as she jogged, listening to her pant, watching the sweat cover her body as she pushed herself further and further.

It had been such pure luck; he had never seen her there before, and he had been going quite often to make himself stronger, leaner, and better.

Today had been the best surprise ever.

Until she had disappeared into the locker room and that blond man had shown up.

He had seen them together before, dancing and nearly procreating at the club a few weeks back. But this time it had been different.

No, he didn't see anything, but when he saw the man charge into the locker room, determination sharp on his features, he knew that the man had been looking for _his_ woman.

Tachikawa-san was to be his and only his, not the toy of the blond man's, she was to be his.

_His_!

And that man had surged into the room, and had come out an hour later, with her at his side.

He knew. Oh he knew…he didn't need to see the faint bruise on her throat to know, or watch the way the man swaggered out of the locker room and the gym.

They had had sex.

His bitch, his woman, _his_ girl, had gone off with another man, right in front of his face.

He spat on the ground, cursing sharply under his breath, fighting the urge to punch the tree until his hands bled and his arms were numb.

He would make the bitch pay. He would show her that she would be his and only his, and that no one else would ever be allowed to touch her.

She was_his_.

**There, the end. FINALLY!**

**Okay, time to the excuse:**

**1. I am an idiot. Pointe final.**

**2. I should have finished earlier in Christmas Vacation, but I had been working a lot of overtime, doing roughly 48 hours a week, and I was just simply exhausted when I got home.**

**3. Like I stated in my profile, I had to go through this, delete half of it, and re-do it because I was not satisfied. To be honest, I had simply HATED the earlier version.**

**4. I have become extremely addicted to the following games during the break: Mario Party DS, Zelda: The Phantom Hourglass, Pokemon Pearl, and World of Warcraft. I am proud to say that my warlock is now level 46, at the expense of my updating time.**

**5. I have recently started going back to school, and already have a 25-minute oral due soon, an annotated bibliography, another bibliography, and an essay to hand in next week. So, can we say: busy? **

**6. Okay…I'm out of excuses. I was just lazy. So, please, please, please forgive me! And please, forgive me again if this chapter sucks. It was sooo difficult to write! **

**So yeah, those are my pathetic excuses, two of which should be considered valid. Again, feel free to kick me in the ovaries once my cold has gone away. **

**Just be grateful that I had delayed in posting this chapter, and not Chapter 15. **

**So, in the end, all I have to say is: SORRY!!!!!!!!!**

**So, please, please, please read and review, and be nice and forgiving, and please correct me, because I have no more patience to re-read this chapter another fucking time. **

**Ja ne!**


	17. Unexpected

**Author note: For reference later on in the Chapter: Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is multiple personality disorder, where the sufferer has missing chunks of memory, they radically change from one kind of personality to another, and severe blackouts. Roughly 95 of all cases involve victims who had suffered from severe physical (usually sexual) abuse, and 98 of cases are female. **

**Furthermore, the host (the main person) is not aware of the other personalities, and can have a wide range of personalities living within them, varying through age, sex, and et cetera. A lot of times, there is more than one personality 'living' in the host's body. **

**I was told that a good movie to watch, which deals with DID, is: The Many Faces of Eve.**

**Note: In honour of Valentine's Day, I am posting a lovely little lemon between two adorable people. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 17**

**Unexpected**

A shift of material, the soft movement of silk brushing against silk, was the only sound in the suddenly silent room. It was so much so that, eventually, the straining ears were able to hear the rushing of traffic on the streets several stories below.

She heard the movement of the feet rustling outside, the heels clicking on the wood, and then the muffled sounds as they reached the carpets. The voices were murmured, silent and soft, barely audible through the thick, mahogany door.

She knew that people existed outside of this little world, living, breathing, talking and laughing just outside of that door. But, deep inside of her, she felt a powerful need to keep the door shut between the outside world and her little bubble.

Just for a little bit.

She needed to think.

Her fingers picked up a pencil, twirling it on the pads, letting the soft, yet strangely rough, texture of the pencil move between her index and middle finger. It was something that would have, normally, distracted the hell out of the person. However, in her case, it was not so. Her mind was filled with so many thoughts, such a wide array of ideas and images, all of which were memories of her past days.

It was terrifyingly strange. One minute, she saw the bodies, lying on the ground, surrounded and bathing in crimson, their life everywhere else but within them, and then she would feel soft roughness, a hand twined in her hair, lips bruising hers in a passionate kiss that seared her to the core of her body. She heard his panting breath against her ear, felt his tongue flick out and tease the lobe, and then she felt her own body shudder with much needed release.

The pencil clattered to the desk and she jolted, eyes wide, heart racing in her chest.

It had felt so … _real_.

But, in the end, she knew that it _had_ been real, had meaning that it had occurred in the past, which is where she wanted it to stay for the rest of time.

She didn't know how she could survive with such strong, sexual urges and thoughts consuming her mind day in and day out.

But…the feel of him against her, touching her, reaching into her farthest depths to bring her to the ultimate ecstasy, it had felt so …_right_.

That scared her.

Never before had sex – and that is what she would always be calling it – felt so different. She was used to having sex with men she barely knew, but this time, she had wanted something more from him than a name. Well before she had lain, naked and panting, in his arms, she had a deep, powerful urge to know his past, his dreams, his likes and dislikes, to know every little thing about him.

It was almost as though she had wanted to establish a relationship.

The idea of a relationship was something she had dabbled in before, roughly three years ago, and she had paid a costly price.

'_Mimi, it's not time to think about the distant past. Right now, you need to think about the recent and present.'_

Her conscience was right; she wouldn't dwell on what had happened in America; she would have to figure out what to do with the present.

So, what should she do about certain attractive, blond haired, blue eyed Lieutenant who was out to capture her heart?

'_You don't even know if he wants your heart. For all you know, he just wanted good, hot, shower sex.'_

Again, it was right; she shouldn't be putting her heart at stake when, in reality, it was not. She needed to think about the facts of the matter, concrete, straightforward, truthful facts that would never change or be used against her.

But, just what could she use as facts and what should she disregard? It was a fact that Lieutenant Ishida had the sexiest body she had ever seen, a six-pack, long and lean legs, and arms that were taut and faintly swollen with strength and power. However, it was also a fact that he had lied to her before, thus proving that it would be highly possible he might lie to her again in the future.

Fact: men lied to get what they wanted. In this case, Lieutenant Ishida had most probably wanted sex, and, in the end, he had gotten just what he had wanted.

Shame filled her body, clenching at her heart, pushing her stomach to her knees. Her face fell into the palms of her hands and she took in several deep breaths, inhaling the scent of her hand cream, allowing the smell of lilies to soothe her senses.

Why had she succumbed to him with such ease? What was it about him that made her simply give in to the temptation? She normally had such a strong will; she used to always be able to fight back any temptation in any form.

So what was different about him?

Was it…?

No, no, it just couldn't be…

_Lust_…

No, that wasn't the right word and she knew it. She knew what the right word was and, once the word filled her mind, she instantly rejected it as the wrong word.

_Love._

No. That was all wrong. It could not possibly be love. Love was for those with a weak will, it was for those who could not fight back, for those who did not know better. Love was not for a sex therapist, in her mid-twenties, with a past she wanted to keep hidden. Love was for those who wanted an open relationship, where details about their entire lives were spread open, out and exposed to their significant other. Absolutely naked to their eyes, waiting to be scrutinized, criticized, and then classified as disgusting and utterly appalling.

She had those secrets in her; the dark little secrets and memories that she needed to keep hidden. If they were got loose, if they were ever exposed, she would not be able to survive it.

She knew that he would be disgusted by her and he would never want to lay another hand on her.

Her brain told her that it would be all right; that if he never came close ever again, she would not have to worry about the L-word.

But … her heart ached at the mere thought of him never acknowledging her existence.

A piece of her wanted to be held in his arms for the rest of eternity, to be kept warm and safe. That little piece told her that his arms, his embrace, would fight back the demons that hid in her mind.

But, what if she didn't want him to know about her demons? What if she feared his reaction to her horrid memories? What if he was actually repulsed and disturbed, pushing her as far away as possible from him?

She did not know what to do, what to expect.

She hated not knowing.

She despised not being able to understand.

And she feared love.

She knew that she would have been able to admit that a long time ago, but even now she had difficulties admitting such a thing; it scared her that she was scared. Fear meant that she had a psychological weakness, and that weakness could be exploited and abused. Being exploited was not something she, or anyone else, would look forward to.

She had experienced it first hand, and it had not been pleasant.

She did not want to go through that again.

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, sitting back and letting her head hang loosely off of the back of her seat. She needed to find some kind of place, some kind of solace, where she could simply lie down, relax, and not worry about the stressful reality she lived in.

But she knew that it would be impossible for her to do that; life was something one could not avoid; it thrust its ugly face in yours, forcing you acknowledge and accept it for what it is. You could not just turn your head away and pretend it did not exist; it would simply keep itself in front of your eyes, never giving you a moment's peace.

Life, for her, had grown more and more stressful of late, and she felt the strength she had gathered in the past few years dissipating. She could not sleep, could not eat, she was simply exhausted, and now, this whole new world was spreading open for her, a world of love, rest, and relaxation, and she feared to step into it.

It was all a lie.

She knew that it would be a façade, a bunch of images, holograms, a hallucinations created to make her feel happiness for a moment's time, until the sunlight faded into darkness, and the cold moonlight illuminated the cruel intent behind the fake images. She would see that, in fact, she had been used, that somebody had needed something from her and the only way to get that things was to pretend to love.

Fake love was the worst kind of love.

She could not risk her heart again; it was still healing, and she would never dare expose it to another person ever again. She could never trust anyone else with her heart.

That was why she had the key on her, tattooed in a very discreet spot, a place she knew that Yamato had not noticed during their sexual escapade. Then again, she realized then that she had not even been aware of his tattoo at the moment.

She could barely remember it now, having just caught a glimpse of the dark shading around his bicep, and she felt shame rise within her. She always so perceptive, she had strived to never let sex cloud her mind again, and yet, she had let such a thing occur. At least she had noticed his tattoo; he had only found her large one. However, she suspected that he had, at least, glimpsed the one on her wrist, the small kanji meaning "submissive" forever inked on her pale flesh.

She had to get back on track, to stop thinking about whether or not he had noticed her tattoos, and to start thinking about how to lock her heart in an even tighter chest. How was she going to do it? How many keys would she need? How many people could she give those keys to? And how many keys should she give out?

Why did love complicate things so much?

She couldn't love, she told herself; she didn't have time for love and its complications.

But … another friend wouldn't hurt…

She fought the impulse to pick up the nearest object and throw it across the room. The idea of wanting to be friends would be the greatest of insults for the Lieutenant. He would certainly hate her if she even considered the prospect.

She would have to think of something else.

Perhaps … if she suggested that they start off as friends and see how things go? Maybe go out together, nothing sexual, and they see …

But, she would have to ensure that he go along with her plan; she really did like him, and maybe, when the air cleared and time permitted it, she might be willing to take the next step.

"Kami-sama, I sound like a fucking soldier plotting some attack!" She buried her face in her hands a second time. "I'm such a horrible person…I couldn't _force_ him to do it…"

A few tears, pushed out of her eyes from stress and exhaustion, moistened her hands. "Friends … I'll see if he wants to be my friend … I like friends."

* * *

"So, tell me, what's been going on in Mimi-san-Land for the past few weeks?"

"Izumi-san, you have some hair in your food…"

"Aya! Gross!" A tanned hand reached out to tug a few blond strands of hair from a plate of spaghetti, pursed, thin lips letting out random curses.

Mimi smiled softly over her vegetables, picking up a carrot and gnawing on it with her teeth. A pair of glittering blue eyes met hers and her grin broadened just a bit. "Mmmm, delicious, I've always wanted hairy spaghetti," Mimi teased.

"Ugh, that's _so_ gross. You can have it if you want!"

She waved a hand towards her friend and coworker. "No thanks, Izumi-san, I'm not that hungry."

The blonde frowned, her eyes falling on the small platter before Mimi, consisting of simple celery, carrots, broccoli and a couple baby tomatoes. "I've noticed…" Coughing softly, she fiddled with her fork, adding a touch more parmesan for her pasta, before facing her friend. "So, again, what has been up?"

"What_has been_ up? Who the hell says that?"

She flicked her fork and Mimi jerked as a small blob of spaghetti sauce landed on her cheek. A shoe clad foot made contact with Izumi's shin, causing the blonde to jump in surprise. At the same time, their tongues flicked out, both grimacing and teasing each other in the most childish of fashions.

Giggling, Mimi shoved a piece of celery in her mouth, purposely eating and talking at the same time just to irk Izumi. "Anyways, putting your horrible use of Japanese aside, nothing has been 'up'. I've been working, sleeping, eating, and working. The usual."

"No sex life? No interesting things? No lesbians hitting on you? Nothing?"

Mimi chuckled; Izumi was the only coworker that knew about her secret life, and, while Izumi was not into the BDSM scene, she found it fascinating and loved to tease Mimi about it from time to time.

"No leather clad macho men with ginormous dicks?"

"Ack!" Slamming a fist against her chest, Mimi coughed loudly, having just choked on a small piece of her celery. "Fuck, Izumi-san, you just took off five years of my life."

"Damn it, I was going for ten."

"You know what, one day I'm going to shove and entire stalk of celery down your throat, and not even check for slugs before I do it!"

"Gross, gross, gross, and _gross_!!"

Smiling, Mimi took a sip of water, crossing her legs comfortably under the table. "Anyways, while you're busy freaking out, my life, so far, has been very busy, yes, but not interesting."

"Mimi-san, one day I'm going to kick you for lying to me. I know as well as you do that your life is anything but boring. I mean, you're working with the police on a high-profile case for Kami's sake! How can that be classified as _boring_?"

Mimi shrugged, toying with a carrot. "I'm not sure. I guess it's a little interesting, it keeps me busy, that's for sure." Suddenly, she leaned forward, her eyes glancing around the room.

"Do you think everyone around us can hear us?"

Izumi's eyes lit up at the whispered words and she leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders to play on the tabletop. "No. Why? Are you going to tell me something about the case?"

Rolling her eyes, Mimi stayed in her position, sighing heavily. "No, I just … I need some help with a patient…"

Frowning, Izumi plopped a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. "Okay. Entertain me."

Sighing again – she seemed to be doing a lot of that these days – Mimi sipped her water. "You know that patient I recently got, the one who keeps canceling appointments randomly?" Izumi nodded. "Well, I think he might have DID, which makes me wonder why he's even in my area at all…But, beside that, he's starting to … freak me out."

Izumi nodded slowly. "Well, people with Dissociative Identity Disorder can sometimes be a little odd, but, well, we know what to expect, so why would he be freaking you out?"

"Well, he's suffering from the usual symptoms of DID, blackouts, chunks of memory missing, et cetera. But, I find it weird that the things he remembers the most are dreams. I know, it doesn't seem _that_ weird, but he's always having the _same_ dream, every night, and each night, he seems to remember more and more of it."

"All right…can you tell me what the dream's about?"

"Luckily, I think I can. Normally, I wouldn't, but in this case, I would prefer to do that, just in case you can help me out." Sighing softly, she began to describe Iori's dreams, depicting the room, the area, detailing everything, trying not to leave anything out. It was disturbing to retell them, having heard the hidden passion and disgust in his voice, having once noticed that his throat became flushed and his eyes glazed over with chained lust. That night, she had not been able to eat a thing or sleep a wink.

These days, however, the dreams had grown more vivid. The scenario, the situation, everything to do with the surrounding area had grown more and more vivid and explicit. Every detail was told with precision, and she found it to be some kind of progress in their work.

"So, he keeps having these disturbing dreams, but what's weird is that he either refuses to describe the woman, or he just can't remember what she looks like. It's so strange. I'm not sure how to go about this. I mean, what should I do? Should I ask him something that will get him to reveal the woman, or should I just be straightforward?"

Izumi pursed her lips, watching as Mimi sighed heavily, letting her face fall into the palms of her hands. She surveyed Mimi's reactions, the way the woman's face had moved during her small speech. Throughout it, she had noticed a slightly sharpening of the woman's cheekbones, the dark circles around the whiskey eyes, a small layer of foundation trying its hardest to block the bruised skin, and she watched the ways the woman's body shifted, stiffly, as though she were under a constant pressure or stress that refused to leave her.

Mimi was, Izumi noted, quite stressed. Not only that, the poor woman was starving herself, and Izumi feared that it might develop into something more. Sighing softly, she knew that she couldn't interfere, not because she was a therapist working in the same building, but because, as a friend, she did not want to jump to conclusions and cause a rift in their friendship. Furthermore, she knew that Mimi would immediately deny it; she needed the woman to find out, on her own, that she might be developing some sort of problem. Only then could Mimi be able to work on it, with the help of her friends and, hopefully, coworkers.

She just feared that if it came down to it and the coworkers were notified, Itashi-shacho might find Mimi to be too mentally unsound to work on those with their own psychological issues.

Such a dilemma.

Perhaps she could talk Kouichi-san into helping her on the side, without notifying Itashi-shacho.

But, for now, all she could do was give Mimi some advice, so long as it did not have anything to do with her doubts or concerns about her friend's eating habits.

"Well, in all honesty, I think you should be direct; if you are not direct, he might take it in offense and become angry with you. So, just to be safe, I would just ask about it. Just ask him what she looked like, if she looked like anyone he knew, or if he remembers how she looked." She stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in her mouth, chewed and swallowed while Mimi lifted her head and took in the information. "So, in the end, I think you should be direct, make it clear what you're aiming for, and you should get the answers you're looking for."

Smiling softly, Mimi reached out and patted Izumi on the head. "Thanks honey, I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me." She then popped some broccoli into her mouth and savored the flavour.

Hopefully, it would help her learn more about her patient and this mysterious woman of his dreams.

* * *

A heavy sigh of frustration escaped the pink, small lips as chocolate eyes glimmered with annoyance. Why, or why, did her patients never fucking show up? Half of them were young, sexy men, having just received surgery for something or another, or having injured themselves playing soccer.

More than once she had gotten one of Taichi's ex-teammates on her table, whining, complaining, and hitting on her all at once.

Tossing her items into her bag, she felt nothing short of absolute irritation. She had waited for over a half hour for her patient to show up, and she had never even bothered to call to let her physiotherapist know about her absence. Sora had taken the initiative to call, and had listened to whiny answering machine, and tried her hardest not to bitch the woman out.

She had simply stated that the woman now owed them roughly several thousand yen for wasting their time. Of course, she had not put it in those exact words, but she made it quite obvious that it was what she meant.

Fucking teenage girls and their constant need to spend more time on their make-up and sucking dick than they did on their own health.

Waving goodbye to her coworkers, she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the clinic, heading for the bus stop; Mimi had kidnapped the car for the day. Sighing again, she closed her eyes and let the cool breeze wash away the stress.

Her motto would always be to leave the stress for work, and relax when at home. Or, something along those lines; she could never make it sound fancier, like a saying from a fortune cookie.

Her thoughts passed briefly over Mimi, wondering what the woman was up to at the moment, and she considered maybe passing by the Itashi Institute to say hi. Immediately, she pushed that thought away, knowing fully well that it was not a good idea for her to visit Mimi; it could be a near breach of confidentiality or something like that.

She wasn't sure; she didn't exactly read all of the rules a psychotherapist had to follow.

Climbing onto the bus, flashing her pass, she took a seat at the back, knowing that her stop would be at the end of the line.

Watching the buildings pass by, she continued to think about Mimi. Taichi had told her that something had happened between Yamato and Mimi, but he had not been sure. She figured that they had probably had hot, amazing sex, and were now afraid to be near each other.

That's what first happened between her and Taichi.

She knew that, deep down, Mimi probably had feelings for the blond man, but was afraid of letting him know; the exact same thing had happened to Sora when she had first met Taichi.

So … Mimi was probably in love with Yamato. The question was; was Yamato in love with Mimi?

Sora could only hope that it was a yes and that, eventually, the two of them could finally admit their feelings to one another.

In the meantime, she grinned, it couldn't hurt to intervene a little bit, try to push them towards their 'goal.'

She hadn't played matchmaker in years; the last time having been when her and Mimi had set up Kamiya Hikari with Takahashi Takeru. Now the couple was having great sex, and even sweet Daisuke-kun was allowed to join in the fun. Of course, Daisuke was, supposedly in love with this cute guy he had met at the bar.

A low giggle bubbled up her throat as she thought about Daisuke batting eyelashes to some tall, big, burly, dark-haired man. Oh yes, Daisuke would definitely be wearing the skirt in their relationship, and maybe even heels.

Back to Mimi and the Adonis; that was what needed her most undivided attention at the moment.

How to get them together without making it seem too obvious?

She wanted to do something that would get them away from their work and into a nice, relaxing environment, a place where they could sit back with their shoes off, close their eyes and let the wind take them wherever it pleased.

Perhaps a simple dinner at her home would be nice…

Stepping out of the bus, she pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed Taichi's number, hoping that he wasn't in the middle of a meeting or something.

"Hey sexy."

She giggled; she couldn't help it; even though she had strong dominating traits, Taichi still brought out the girly-girl in her, making her want to be on bottom for once and let him take the reigns.

They didn't actually _use_ reigns; it was just an expression.

"Hello beautiful," she teased. "Taichi-kun, I need to know something."

"Sure, but make it quick, Yamato-kun and I are about to go into a meeting." She could hear Yamato curse Taichi in the background for adding the 'kun' at the end of his name.

_Boys_.

"I was wondering if you and Yamato-san wanted to come over for dinner tonight."

She could almost hear Taichi grin over the phone, and she quickly adjusted it as she unlocked the door to the duplex, turning off the alarm quickly after shutting the door.

"Who's cooking?"

She knew that he was hoping that it would be Mimi; she had always been the better cook out of the two of them and Taichi had loved Mimi's cooking almost as much as he loved Sora.

"Well, I could talk Mimi into doing it, but it would probably be the two of us, seeing as she gets home a little late tonight."

She heard him turn away from the phone, calling to Yamato, before turning back to her. "Sounds fine, Yamato-_kun_ will be there a little later than me; he has some special Lieutenant meeting shit."

"Alright. So I'll see you tonight then?"

"Yes."

She smiled, told him she loved him, and quickly brought her bag upstairs and began preparing a list of what to make for dinner.

Matchmaking could prove to be fun.

"Oh Kami, Taichi, get your ass over here."

The sound of clothing hitting the floor filled the room and footsteps followed, silenced by the thick carpet. The bed shifted and Taichi's naked, tanned body leaned over Sora's petite, paler form.

Both were naked, flushed, and heavily aroused, her small breasts tight with need, his body tense with arousal.

Their lips touched and groan escaped him as she rolled over, landing on top of him. Her legs straddled his waist and he knew that she didn't want foreplay; she wanted to get right to the action.

Her hand reached down to cup his heavy arousal, holding the smooth, thick flesh in her hand as she slowly stroked it, watching as his eyes darkened with pleasure. His body was filling with need, white hot arousal that caused his lungs to scream for air and his muscles to grow unbearably tense.

She tightened her grip, loving how her womb clenched with need, moisture pooling between her thighs to nearly drip onto his cock.

Oh Kami, how she needed to feel him inside of her, filling her to the brim, showing her just how beautiful she was.

Without waiting, she slid him inside of her, moaning with delight as she was stretched, her inner muscles clenching tightly around his arousal, pleasure coursing through her veins in a constant, heady rhythm.

Her back arched, pushing her breasts into the air, and she cried out when his hands reached up and grabbed them, teasing the nipples into impossibly harder, aching peaks.

She tightened around him, so close to an orgasm that it amazed her.

Slowly, she began to rotate her hips, leaning over him to capture his lips with hers, riding his cock until she became blind with need. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and, as she lay on top of him, still rotating her hips, she felt his heart beat with the same rhythm as hers.

Gooseflesh rose over her body as he raked his short nails down her spine, causing her breath to shorten and her body to rise closer and closer to the much needed edge of pleasure.

"Sora … yes, oh yes…"

His hands grasped her buttocks, and she let him take control, pushing his cock deeper inside of her as she moaned, needing to touch him everywhere at once, needing to feel him buried deeper and deeper within her.

Slowly, her body became aware only to the pleasure building in her, her eyes watching his, both darkened with need, and she felt herself nearing the edge, her body tensing and clenching tighter and tighter.

"Taichi," she gasped as she fell over the precipice, falling into the mass of pleasure and need that consumed her, causing her body to clench rhythmically around his.

He bowed up, slamming his hips harder into hers, need twining around his heart and lungs, coursing through his veins and filling him, blinding him from everything else but his love coming around him.

He needed it, needed to feel her come again, and, for the first time in a long time, he rolled over, landing on top of her, and slammed his hips into hers, hard and fast.

Time and time again, she bowed up, crying out as she came around him, unable to catch her breath before she felt her body tensing again, bringing her closer to the edge she had just jumped over. She could not tell where his body ended and hers began, and she didn't want to be able to tell that; she wanted to focus only on him moving in her, filling her, and pulsing deep inside of her when she would bring him to an orgasm.

The feeling of him over her, the mutual lust and passion, the constant love, it amazed her, but the amazement didn't last long. He angled his hips, throwing her legs over his shoulders, and brought her to another orgasm, crying out as she vibrated around him, keeping him buried deep within her.

"Taichi … oh Taichi… come in me…_please_."

She begged, and she was surprised that she had begged, but, at the same time, it had not been the first time. She _needed_ to feel him inside of her, filling her with his seed, letting her know that it was her touch that had caused such a reaction.

Dropping her legs, he leaned over her, enjoying the feel of her breasts rubbing against his bare chest as he moved harder and faster, needing to feel the ultimate release that had constantly been just out of reach.

Her nails dug into his back as pleasure filled them at the same time, coursing so passionately, so quickly through their veins that their bodies fell over the edge together, tensing and crying out as she tightened around him and he filled her with his seed.

"Oh, Sora…"

Everything went black; time itself came to a halt as he only felt her around him, her wet, tight body coming around him, her arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into his flesh as she cried out his name with ecstasy.

Their hearts beat as one, their lungs inhaling and exhaling together, and their cries mingled in the air, the drawn-out orgasm taking over their senses and filling them with one thought.

_Love._

* * *

Sora was just tugging on a pair of black slacks, watching with amusement as Taichi lay on the bed, his eyes watching her dress, when she heard a knock at the front door.

Cursing, she stumbled and nearly fell back on the bed, if Taichi had not leapt to his feet, caught her, and went to answer the door.

Naked.

"Uh…Tai-kun…"

He waved a hand, a gesture that implied that he didn't care if he was barely dressed or not; he knew who it was.

A high pitched scream filled the air followed by the sounds of shoes hitting the ground at a sprint.

His mistake … it hadn't been Yamato.

The poor Jehovah Witness.

Sora rushed down the stairs, wearing nothing but her pants and a bra, eyeing him with annoyance as he closed the door, locking it, and reset the alarm. Turning around, he grinned up at her, and her eyesight went lower, catching sight of his returned arousal.

"Tai…" There was a warning in her voice.

His grin broadened as he ignored her warning, rushed up the stairs to take her once more.

Yamato and Mimi would be back soon, and that meant he would have to behave, but for the time being, it felt good to act like a 'Neanderthal.'

* * *

The duplex was small, but cozy looking, painted white with a balcony on the left side of the building, right beside a large, lovely cherry blossom tree, the colours of which were not the brilliant pink that glowed in Springtime. A small layer of snow covered the grass and front steps, and it seemed to almost match the pale cream colour of the home. The front bay window was blocked; curtained shut by chocolate curtains, and the upstairs window was also curtained by a soft purple curtain.

The numbers gleamed gold in the faint light, shimmering just below a dark mailbox, the darkness of it standing out against the pale walls, just as the ebony balcony stood out against the pale leaves and whiteness of the snow.

He considered it to be quaint, with a flat roof, invisible under the coat of snow and frost, and, as he pulled up on the side of the road, he thought that it would be a place Mimi and Sora would have considered to be small without being claustrophobic.

Knocking on the door, Yamato buried his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, waiting and trying to peer through the curtained glass window to see who would answer his call.

The door opened wide, Taichi greeting him and beckoning him in, showing off the interior of the duplex.

The entrance way was opened, showing off the small living room to the left, and the staircase right in front of him, slightly shadowing the hallway on the right.

Slipping off his shoes, he caught sight of the living room and noted that it had probably been Sora who had designed it; it was all creams, rich tones, earthy and soothing, a wonderful blend of white and chocolate brown. The carpet was thick and creamy, the sofa a chocolate that matched the curtains and wood paneling. A television was mounted, a small flat-screen that had probably cost a few months of Mimi and Sora's pay combined. He noted, with a grin, that a few gaming consoles and a DVD player were visible through the glass and mahogany cabinet under the television.

Following Taichi down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the dining room, a room filled with royal colours, dark blues, rich purples, and lovely reds, blended perfectly to make a calm, soothing atmosphere with a touch of richness and wealth.

He guessed that Mimi and Sora had worked together on forming that room.

The hallway led him to the kitchen, which was connected to the dinning room, and what he thought was a bathroom near the kitchen entrance.

He grinned; he couldn't help but love the kitchen. Being in the kitchen had always been his favourite place as a child, despite the fact that neither he nor his father could cook worth shit. But it was in the kitchen that they had always talked, played games, or simply sat there, holding each other after his mother's untimely death.

It shimmered in the light, all of the appliances composed of stainless steel, while the gas stone shone in a dark, tainted stainless steel. The silver stood out amongst the vivid reds and blacks that were the cabinets, curtains, and towels. The island in the middle of the kitchen was black and white, checkered and almost laughingly 50's, if it weren't so modernized. The walls were painted a simple white, causing the red and black to stand out vividly in the room.

A table off to the side, small, almost big enough for three people at most, was the only thing that looked older, composed of a rich, cherry wood that gleamed brilliantly in the light from the windows.

He knew, instinctively, that it had been Mimi who had designed the kitchen.

Sora turned around from the stove, having just set some water to boil, and smiled broadly at the newcomer and her lover. "Welcome, Ishida-san, to the Tachikawa-Takenouchi home!"

His grin broadened. "I'm glad to be here."

* * *

Stepping into the home, her senses were assaulted by rich smells of a feast cooking in the kitchen. They filled and twirled around in her mind, dancing and teasing her to the put where she felt starved, as though she had not eaten in weeks. 

Placing a hand to her suddenly growling stomach, Mimi slipped out of her shoes, placing them on the rack by the wall, and made her way towards the stairs, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she slowly turned her head, finding a blond-haired, blue-eyed man sitting comfortably on her couch in _her_ living room in _her house_.

Her eyes widened with shock, watching as he turned his head, gave her a wink and a grin, before turning his attention back to the television. She could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke; "Least you could've done was say 'Honey, I'm home'."

Her bag fell to the ground as she stared in awe, turning her head slowly, leaning over the railing to aim her cry towards the kitchen, where she heard Sora speaking in a loud tone. "Takenouchi Sora! Get your ass over here! You have some explaining to do!"

He laughed, a deep, masculine, throaty laugh that made her body clench with need, and she ignored the immediate, sexual response, trying her hardest to find some reason for his appearance in her home.

Sora appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a small apron she had tied around her waist. Arching a brow, she frowned at Mimi as she made her way over. "Yes Mimi-chan?"

"What the _hell_ is _he_ doing here?" She gestured violently towards the man on the couch, who, once more, laughed.

"_He_ is here for dinner." Sora was fighting hard not to smile or giggle at Mimi's childish reaction. Instead, she tried to appear irked; placing her hands on her hips in an attempt to make it look like Mimi was acting too childishly.

"And_who_ invited him?" Mimi picked up her bag, tugging it back onto her shoulder once more.

Smiling softly this time, Sora crossed her arms, shifting to put her weight on her left leg. "I did."

Whiskey eyes widened even more as the shock increased. "But … _why_?"

Sora chuckled now, knowing fully well that Taichi was listening from the kitchen and trying his hardest not to laugh. She could hear Yamato laughing quietly from his spot, knowing fully well that he could care less if Mimi heard him.

"Well, I thought that since you're working with him, and he's Tai's friend, it would be nice to invite him over for dinner. You know, that way we could all spend some time together, I could get to know him, and you could all least talk to him outside of work."

"But … I … fuck, and you didn't bother to think about asking _me_?"

"Mimi," Sora sighed, "we both live in this home, and, although we both share the rent, I feel that I do not always need your 'permission' to invite someone over for dinner."

Awestruck, Mimi fought for some kind of witty response, something to say that would have the sexual beast out of her house and out of her life. But she knew that fighting with Sora about the topic would be utterly useless, so she threw her hands in the air with a loud sigh and marched upstairs.

Yamato leant back on the sofa, letting his head hang upside down over the edge. Smiling, he added, "Well, that went well."

Sora rolled her eyes, chuckling quietly as she made her way back to the kitchen, giving Taichi a hug as she entered.

Yamato waited patiently until the woman had disappeared, left the television on, and made his way quietly up the stairs. Just the sight of Mimi, clad in the tight, cream pants and red blouse made him hard with need, and he couldn't help but follow her and try to coax her back into his arms, where she belonged.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, he used all of his stealth experience to sneak along the carpet, knowing that she would definitely not expect him.

He found her door to be slightly ajar; having been fortunate enough to find the other bedroom and the bathroom doors wide open. Leaning against the wall, he angled himself for he could see in her room without being seen and watched.

The silk blouse made its way to the floor and he watched as she stepped in front of his line of vision, wearing nothing but the pants and a pink lace bra that pushed her breasts up more than it covered them.

Fighting back a groan, he waited until she turned her back to him and he slowly opened the door, taking his time, hoping that it wouldn't creak and give him away. Slowly, he snuck up behind her and grasped her by the waist.

A soft cry left her lips as she spun around.

**So? Good? I hope so. I'm getting better at updating, but I had some issues with this chapter. Mainly that my comp shut down when I was half done, and had to redo half of what I had written (which had been a couple of pages, actually. I know, it sucks.). **

**Anyways, I want to make a quite point: In this, I want to keep it quite obvious that Yamato grew up with his father, and not his mother, who he had barely spoken with in the anime series. So, instead of making his parents divorced (seeing as I don't want him and Takeru to be blood-related), I decided to have his mother, well, die. **

**I'm not sure if I'll develop on that point later on the story or not, it just randomly came to me as a good excuse as to why he grew up with his dad. So please do not flame me and say: "WELL YAMA'S MOM IZ ALIVE IN DE SERIEZZ!!!" Yeah, I'll delete comments like that because they're fucking stupid.**

**Aside from that, please keep in mind my review/post policy (three reviews next chapter posted), and please, please, please, if you find ANY spelling mistakes, let me know so that I may correct them. **

**Oh yes, sorry I didn't put too much detail in the Taiora lemon ******** I had a few reviewers ask for one, and I decided a mini one wouldn't hurt. **

**Ja ne!**


	18. Exposure

**Warning: Limey smut for beginning of chapter, but very ... prudish in comparison to chapter 15! **

**Chapter 18**

Exposure

Crying out, Mimi jerked back, trying to fight her way out of his arms and defend herself from his sudden attack. Pushing at his chest, she stomped on his foot, causing him to grunt with pain, and struggled to get out of his hold.

A cry was lodged in her throat as he cursed and crushed his lips against hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth to battle with hers for dominance. At first she struggled wildly, trying to get away, to escape from his sensual touch, but she suddenly yielded once his tongue touched hers.

His hand reached up, teasing the back of her throat, while the other one grasped her hip, pulling her body closer to his, while her arms lay limp at her sides.

The cry of dismay turned, slowly, into a quiet moan of pleasure, her eyes shutting, letting him know just how much she had begun to enjoy his touch.

Growling softly, he pulled her even closer, his grip on her hip tightening while her arms went up, twining around his neck to press her body against his.

Her lips latched onto his, bruising his mouth as pleasure began to course through her body, pushing all other thoughts out of her mind. Never in her life had a simple kiss moved her in such a way, never had it caused her to become blinded from her surroundings, causing her to focus only on the man before her, the man touching her and teasing her.

His hand slid up, grasping her hair, pressing her harder against his body, groaning with delight as she arched her hips against his. He kept his fingers wrapped around the ebony curls, holding her mouth tightly against his, moving his lips against hers as their tongues danced.

This is exactly what he had been wanting for the past days. To feel her against his body, yielding to his touch as ecstasy began to fill them and overwhelm their senses. To feel her mouth gasp as her breath hitched while he ran his hand down her spine, to feel the gooseflesh rise over her bare skin as she was attacked by wave of heat and cool air at once. To feel her squirm in his arms, crying out his name as he brought her, time and time again, to a powerful, mind-numbing climax.

Another primitive growl left his throat, and he stepped forward, slowly pushing them towards the bed without ever breaking the embrace. He didn't want to let her go, to lose her again like he had before. He wanted to keep her close to him, keep her warm and safe, and to listen as she spoke the forbidden words.

He accepted it, but the question would always be: did she?

The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, but she was only aware of his mouth on hers, his tongue finding every little spot in her mouth and dominating it, while she returned the favour with relish and delight. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could just feel his through his clothes, pounding in the same, endlessly rapid rhythm as hers.

He nipped her lower lip.

Her legs gave way and she fell back onto the bed, dimly aware of him tugging her up, pushing her back towards the pillows until their entire bodies were on the crimson sheets. She arched with pleasure as he tore his mouth from hers, his lips trailing along the sensitive flesh of her throat, nipping every so often in the right places.

Thank Kami she was on the bed, because she was one hundred percent sure that her legs would have collapsed then and there.

She didn't want him to stop touching her, to stop kissing her, and her heart was telling her that it was right, it was perfect. He was perfect.

Her conscience was fighting with itself, warring, one part telling her that she shouldn't be doing this, trying to overpower the strength of her heart and the other half of her conscience, which told her that it was _right_.

She knew that it felt right, that it felt good, to have his lips bruising her throat, his fingers making their way to her sensitized breasts. It felt painfully good to have him lying on top of her, showing her a passion she had never felt before in her entire life.

But, there was still the gnawing sensation that she shouldn't be doing this … that it had to be wrong in some way or another.

It was too soon.

No, it couldn't be that. That was a silly argument.

She moaned as her breasts were freed, her mind becoming totally blank as cool air teased her hardened nipples, his fingers finding the peaks and, if it were possible, teased them until they hardened and tightened even more.

No, no, think, think girl. Don't let his wicked ways blind you.

But she couldn't think; it felt too good, too perfect, his hands on her, his mouth against her flesh, his body resting on hers, leaning on hers as though he never wanted to leave her alone.

It felt so _right_.

But it was too soon, a part of her conscience feebly attempted to remind her.

_Shut up. I'll deal with it later_, she thought, allowing her mind to become totally blank and empty, filling it with the ecstasy that was coursing rapidly throughout her body.

Her soft cry was swallowed by him as he covered her mouth with his, his fingers toying right the barbells, causing the fire of pleasure to rush through her body and totally consume her being. She was ignited, hot, and needy, needing to feel more, to feel his touch harder and rougher, yet passionate and tender, needing to feel it all over her body.

He growled against her mouth, moving a hand down her flat stomach, heading towards the edge of her pants, where he stopped, placing his hand against her abdomen as he thrust his tongue into her mouth again and again.

Her body arched up, pressing her breasts against his chest as her nails and hands found his back, digging into it, trying not to tear his shirt off so she could feel his bronze, warm skin against hers.

If he touched her intimately, she didn't know how long she would last…

"Mimi-chan, Sora needs your help in…Oh dear Kami-sama, I, uh, I'll come back later. Have fun."

She jerked up as he jerked back, her forehead hitting the side of his skull as their eyes fell on the doorway, watching as a bushy-haired brunet made his way away from the room.

They had heard the grin his voice, and, while Yamato found it rather silly, Mimi wanted to climb under the sheets and hide for the rest of eternity.

Chuckling softly, Yamato turned back towards her, ignoring the pain in his head from their collision. "Well, I guess we should have closed the door, eh?"

Rubbing her forehead, she sat up, gently pushing him aside. Mumbling an apology for having hit him, she adjusted her bra, placing her breasts back into the cups, before moving to get off of the bed. "No, we shouldn't be doing this…"

She jerked back as his hand grasped her wrist, yanking her back and forcing her to sit down on the bed. That was the last thing she wanted to do; she was afraid that it she lay down with him, they would resume what they had already begun, and she had to keep reminding herself that it was _wrong_.

"Mimi-san, don't do this. You already did this to me once before, don't do this to me a second time."

Jerking her eyes away from his, unable to stand seeing the sudden hurt in them, she felt her heart painfully clench in her chest. She couldn't stand knowing that it was her who was causing him the pain.

"I … Ishida-san, I don't think that we should be doing this. It isn't right."

_Silly girl, it is right. You just haven't noticed it yet._

_Oh shut up, what do you know?_

_I know that it's right to be in love, and I know he loves you too._

_Don't say that word._

_What? Love? Love isn't all that bad, you know. It's actually good for the heart. Get it? Good for the..._

_Shut up._

Oh Kami-sama, she was going insane. Her 'good' conscience was making corny jokes, and her 'bad' conscience was arguing back. Oh Kami-sama, she was going to die.

"How isn't it right? If you explained it to me, then maybe we could figure things out." She turned and saw the yearning in his eyes, the need that was bare and exposed, and suddenly she felt naked under his gaze.

Trying to tug her wrist free, her breath hitched as he ran his thumb on the inside of her wrist, gently rubbing the sensitive flesh, causing gooseflesh to rise over her body and her heart to beat rapidly in her chest.

Tugging harder now, she managed to free her arm, moving away to her dark mahogany dresser, trying to find a shirt to cover her nakedness.

Rummaging through her drawers, she did the same to her mind, trying to find some sort of excuse that he would buy; she couldn't find any reason for why it was wrong, especially when it felt terrifyingly right.

"It's too soon."

He fought back laughter at her silly statement, watching her as she tugged a pale blue turtleneck over her body, saddened by the loss of the sight of her flesh. He knew why she had chosen it; it covered her entire torso, from her wrists to her throat, and it fell just past her hips. It was also a bitch to remove.

"What do you mean, it's too soon?" He fought the urge to remind of what they had done just a few days ago, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew that she was currently warring with herself, trying to find reason when there was none. She was a reasonable person, she needed to find a reason for everything, and right now, she was afraid because she could find no reason.

Turning around, she crossed her arms across her breasts, almost protectively, and leaned against the dresser. The dresser that, just a day ago, had been torn through by a stranger. She wondered if he knew; if he was aware of the break-in that had happened while Sora had been home. She knew that he didn't, or he would be searching her room, or asking her questions about it.

She couldn't tell him, besides; it had nothing to do with the situation at hand.

"It's too soon. We barely know each other; I don't even know where you live, for goodness sake! I don't know your birthday, your favourite colour, anything that anyone should know before going to bed with someone."

He wanted to point out that she used to do on an almost nightly basis, going to have sex with strangers, not even knowing if they had told her their real name. But he didn't; he would listen to her arguments, and try to find a reasonable solution.

The solution was easy.

"What if we took it slow?" He adjusted his position on the bed, sitting Indian style, comfortable and relaxed, but tense at the same time.

"What do you mean by slow?" Her retort was quick, sudden, as though she had been hoping for his answer and had been preparing her reply.

He shrugged, getting off of the bed, adjusting his shirt in front of the mirror. "You know, slow. Like, we go out to dinner a few times, get to know each other, I'll tell you my favourite colours, what I wanted to be when I grew up, all that jazz. I'll even tell you when I was born." He winked. "If you _must_ know, right now, at this second, I am 27, and I know that you are 25 and was some kind of child prodigy or something." He grinned at her shocked expression. "Taichi told me," he added.

"So," she began slowly, still wondering how much more the Lieutenant knew about her, "you want to start by dating and stuff? Lunch and dinner dates?"

"In open areas of course," he replied, running his hands through his hair. "You know, places where people can see us, that way I won't be tempted to fuck you every second we're together."

Liquid heat pooled between her legs at his statement and she fought the urges to shift her legs, instead forcing herself to walk take her hair brush and begin tugging it through her hair. One, two, three, just count the strokes, think of something, anything that wouldn't remind her of his touch.

"That's nice," she replied. "So, we basically just go out to dinner, tell each other our life stories, and see where things go from there? Like…friends?"

He nearly winced at the word. Friends. Such an ugly word when someone wanted to be more than that. But, for now, he would have to grin and bear it. "Uh, yeah, something like that. But of course, we could pretend we're 'best' friends." He winked again and grinned as a dark blush covered her cheeks.

She slapped the hairbrush down on her dresser, grabbing a hair elastic, using it to tie her hair into a high ponytail. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"I'll do it. We'll go out to dinner, see how things go, and from there, I'll decide what to do."

He wanted to remind her that they would be going into this together, and they would decide, _together_, what to do, but he knew that this was one part of her life that she needed to be dominant over. It was only in sex that she wanted to be dominated.

Eventually, he would show her what it was to be loved. But right now, he would have to agree to her conditions if he had any hope for their relationship to last.

* * *

He wasn't going to watch them eat dinner; he knew how it would be. Boring, uneventful, and completely useless for him to watch; he wouldn't get any more information. 

She was a slut. A fucking whore, sleeping with any man she met, and now, all of a sudden, she wanted this man. That strange asshole who would use her and never admit that she was his. The man wouldn't want her like he did, he wouldn't make her his.

She was his and his alone, and he was never one to share.

He would have to find one way or another to bring her away from the man, to show her that she was his and nobody else's.

How? That was always the question, wasn't it? How would he get her to be his?

He would have to go in again, to sneak inside and show her just how much he wanted her. Show her that he was his alone.

The bitch. The sneaky, filthy, lying bitch.

Oh yes, she was his, but she didn't know it…yet. One day, soon, he would show her, and then, she would forget about that man, she would forget about sleeping with other people, and would only want his touch.

He would do it.

Soon.

He would make her his and make her pay.

Soon.

* * *

He sat before her, fiddling with the material of his pants, obviously uneasy where he sat, feeling scrutinized by her calculating gaze.

She needed for him to speak, for him to tell her what she needed to hear. He had to tell her what the woman in his dreams looked like. Or, in the end, she might just have to give him over to someone else.

They weren't getting anywhere.

She needed something fresh to go off of.

"Hida-san, I was thinking, more or less wondering, if you could tell me a bit more about your dreams?"

He jerked his head away from her, moving his eyes from hers, not wanting to look at her. He hated her right now. He didn't know why, but he felt a powerful hatred for her.

He wanted her dead.

No, no, no he didn't; she was too beautiful to die. He would never seriously wish her death.

So what did he want?

He didn't know…

"Hida-san? Are you all right?" Mimi leaned forward, watching his strange reactions, the way he jerked his head, how he angled it and his body away from her, as though he feared her or was angry with her.

What had happened in the time between their last session and now?

Sighing softly, she wonder if she should tell him what she guessed he had; it might help him open up a bit more, tell her just what the woman looked like. Or maybe it might cause something else, some other hint or note, another little thing she could go off of and get more information from.

He might not be too happy, but, then again, who was happy when their psychiatrist told them that they had multiple-personality disorder? She knew that she wouldn't be; she would probably end up becoming extremely paranoid.

Taking a sip from her water bottle, she placed the pad of paper and her pen on the desk. Leaning forward a touch more, she tried to look him in the eyes. "Hida-san, I think I know what might be causing the dreams."

He jerked his head over, panic aglow in his eyes, fear and terror, for a mere second, before they dissolved into a false joy and concern, amazement at her ability to decipher just what had been going on.

How had she figured it out?

"Now, I hate saying this as much as the next person, but, well, I have to say it; it's only fair." She sat back now. "I believe that you are suffering from dissociate identity disorder … or, at least, a branch of it; specifically multiple-personality disorder. Now, multiple-personality disorder is…"

"No!" He jerked back, standing, sending the chair flying backwards. "No! You're wrong! I…I can't have that! It's impossible!"

Not expecting such a violent reaction, she sat up straighter in the chair, positioning herself so she could easily grasp the phone or an object to be used as a weapon.

"Hida-san, I understand that this can come as a shock to you, I would be shocked, as well, but there is no doubt. After the dreams you have described to me, the symptoms you are suffering from, I considered all of the possibilities, trying to find something other multiple-personality disorder. But, everything points to it and I feel that, as your psychiatrist, I must inform you of it. It's not fair if I keep it a secret."

"I don't care about that! I do _not_ have multiple-personality whatever! It's impossible. You're lying. You lying bitch! You're lying to me." _She's trying to find out about the other thing._ "You're … you're lying to get other stuff. Other information!" He jerked forward, slamming his hands on the desk. "You bitch," he spat, fury aglow in his eyes.

It had been such a quick, violent transformation, switching from the usually quiet, timid Hida-san, to the now rough, angered, and extremely violent man before her. Now she had to figure out why.

Sitting back, trying not to appear tense and slightly frightened at his sudden outburst, she crossed her arms, trying to appear as relaxed as possible, as passive and unthreatening as she could.

"Hida-san, please, if you let me explain, you'll see that it is not something as bad as it sounds." Her eyes glowed softly. "Trust me."

He fought with himself, with the voice that had taken over his body, telling him to kill the bitch, but he had to fight it. It wasn't right; it wasn't good to do this. He couldn't … but, but he could, at the same time, he truly and honestly could.

Maybe if he scared her enough…

Flying forward, he grabbed the uncapped pen on her desk, and as she moved to grab the phone, he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as he dug the pen into her throat.

"Hida-san, please don't do this. Please, I can really help you if you let me."

His hands shook, his mind screaming at him, he shouldn't be doing this, it wasn't right, it wasn't nice!

"I … you can't know … He says that I have to …"

"Who is he? Please, Hida-san, tell me so I can help you fight him. You can't fight him alone; I can help."

"No…no you can't." She jerked as his hand shook, digging the pen into her skin and dragging it down, forming a dark red line under the black ink. "You can't do anything."

"But, Hida-san, I can. I really hate to say this, but I can call security with the touch of a button. Do you really want that? For me to have security run in, and you end up in court? You'll have the _mens rea_ against you; they will know that you weren't 'insane' when you did this. Do you really want to go to court, and try to plead insanity? How will your job think about it? What will you family say?"

"No! Stop talking! Stop saying all of these crazy things! Just _stop_!" He dug the pen harder into her throat and she feared that the flesh would eventually break.

"Please, Hi…Iori-san, please, let me help you. Let me help you, and that way, you will never have to tell your family, you will never have to tell the world. You just have to talk to me, and I will listen to you." She wanted to swallow, but she feared that if she did so, there would be too much pressure on her throat. "Iori-san, I can help you, I promise."

"I … she's pretty. She's so pretty." She wanted to ask who, but then she realized that he was talking about the woman in his dreams. "She has such long, beautiful hair and her skin, it's so pale, it's like the moon. Her eyes…she has eyes like yours. They're so gorgeous, round, and beautiful. She's so beautiful." The pen fell to the floor with a clatter and he buried his face against his hands. "And I kill her…I don't want to, believe me, please believe me, I don't want to. But she's dead, and I … I don't feel anything."

She sat in the chair, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, her neck marred with black and red, tears stinging in her eyes, the sudden violence all forgotten as the grown man before her succumbed to the fears in his heart.

_You poor, poor thing._

* * *

"Score! Did you see that Yamato-kun? I totally just got a hole in one there!"

"Yagami-san, if you call me 'Yamato-kun' one more time, I'm going to get a golf club and shove it up your ass."

"But Yamato-_kun_ it was such a great shot! I mean…ayah!"

Ichijouji Ken walked into the office, crossed his arms and arched a brow as he found Yamato wrestling with Taichi, Yamato holding the first object he had grabbed – a marker – while Taichi tried to fight him off with no avail.

"You know, we're supposed to be cops, which means that we're supposed to be serious, not drawing on each other with markers." His lips twitched despite the seriousness in his voice, and he waited until the door was shut before he let the laughter bubble out.

Although Ishida Yamato and Yagami Taichi were said to be toughest cops around, they were still children at heart and tended to act as such, even on the clock, when nobody was looking.

They were quite fortunate that it had been Ken and not the Commander who had walked in on them.

Taichi childishly stuck his tongue out at Ken, while Yamato managed to add lovely line of black ink on Taichi's elbow to complete the small, crude replica of male genitalia.

Rolling his eyes, Ken came in, sat down on the couch, and watched as Taichi rolled down his sleeves to cover the image, while Yamato made his way back to his desk, picking up the papers he had dropped when Taichi had purposely annoyed him.

"Alright," Yamato cleared his throat, "back to the serious stuff."

"Yes, good idea. So … what were you talking about before?" Taichi grinned sheepishly and Yamato fought back the childish urge to throw something at the man.

"Well, while I was looking over my papers and you were just annoying the fuck out of me, I was about to point out that there is a pattern."

"That is?" Ken crossed his arms, waiting patiently so they could begin their group discussion.

"Well, we know that the security guards follow a particular pattern, and we have _some_ footage of the three men being on duty on the nights of the murders, but, well, after asking for a record of all of the security guard shifts, I noticed that Shibayama-san's group was_always_ there on the nights of the murders, and none of them were absent."

"I thought that we had already established it?" This came from Taichi.

"Well, we have guessed at it, but didn't have anything hardcore to pin them at the places except for their typical routine. But now we have hardcore evidence that Shibayama-san's group was there on the nights of the murders."

"So, we have one pattern, but the problem is, Shibayama-san said that he didn't know anything about the murders," Ken pointed out.

"I know, but, since we found one pattern, I'm wondering if the murderer may also follow their pattern. It would be a long-shot, but I thought that if we got a list of all of the clients who were there from, say, 11:00 pm to closing on the nights of the murders, we could find some sort of pattern."

Frowning, Ken arched a brow. "We would do this through the whole sign-in/sign-out stuff they have, right?"

"Yes. It would a huge long-shot, and going through the lists would take quite a while, but we need to see if there are other patterns that follow the ones set by the guards. The murder must have signed in on all of those nights in order to have been at the club."

"And if they were using an alias?" Taichi asked.

"Impossible. Kido-san does background checks on everyone who comes into his club," Yamato pointed out. "He doesn't want any drug dealers, ex-rapists, and any others of the sort in his clubs. He doesn't like taking chances."

"It is a smart thing to do if you want to open a club. But what about those who come in for one night? Or the ones who aren't members?"

"He still does background checks. That way, if they come back a second time, and he doesn't want them in, the guards will refuse their entry. It's pretty simple, actually."

"Yeah, but there are a lot of loopholes and the sort," Ken added.

"I noticed that, but it seems that it does the job." Yamato stood up and opened his small fridge in the corner, pulling out a water bottle. "I've already called and asked for the lists, and Kido-san said that I should receive them sometime today. The man's efficient, he's smart and quick, he likes to get things done as quickly and easily as possible, but within the law."

"Did Tachikawa-san tell you this?"

Scowling at Ken, Yamato took at sip of water, ignoring as Taichi made crude gestures with his hands, the movements hidden from Ken's view.

"No, actually, I went to see Kido-san the other day and he told me this. He's put a lot of faith in us and expects us to find the perpetrator. So, this is why I'm trying all angles, anything I can to find some kind of pattern, or some evidence that we can use and go off of. Just one thing that can help give us an advantage, because right, we've got shit all."

Yamato moved back to his desk, opening the desktop and his e-mail. Smiling to himself, he gestured for the men to come over as he began printing the lists. "I told you he would have them sent soon."

They quickly set up a group. Taichi would take the time from 11:00-12:30, Ken was 12:30 – 2:00, and Yamato had 2:00-3:30, closing time. Highlighters in hands, they began searching down the lists of names, looking at the first ten, trying to see if there were any matches.

Yamato knew that they would find his name on the list, as well as Taichi's, and probably Ken's at some point in time or another. But they all knew about each other's sexual escapades, and neither of them was afraid to admit it.

"Shit, this is going to be a bitch. There are so many names!" Taichi whined after a while, wanting to toss the highlighter across the room and burn the papers at the same time.

"Don't worry, Yagami-san, we'll figure things out soon enough. Besides, once we have all of the names highlighted, it will be a hell of a lot easier."

"Yeah, but there are a lot damn names to highlight, that's the problem!"

Yamato rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the incessant whining coming from the Detective. "Thank you, Yagami-san, for being oh-so helpful by making such an obvious statement."

The brunet pouted after childishly sticking his tongue out at Yamato, and silently returned to his work, mentally grumbling about abusive Lieutenants and uselessly annoying tasks.

Another hour or so went by, with minimal interruptions, the only the only one worth noting being when Yamato and Taichi were called out to help subdue three violent criminals being brought in. Other than that, they continued with their work in silence, Taichi barely grumbling now. It was rather dull, but it became rather worth it.

"So, we have our regulars, and then, we have a few others here," Yamato stated, his hand sore from making notes for two to three hours. Rubbing his right hand, he leaned back, looking over the papers. "As we know, there were a _lot_ of people in each club during the times, but, well, everybody has their favourite, so it makes things easier."

He was right; although they did highlight several names, when comparing the names listed for Cruella's to those of the others clubs, they found a lot less people to circle. It seemed that, although people did have their favourite branch of clubs, they always went to their preferred club of the branch, which was what Yamato had suspected earlier on.

"Now, we have a list of a good twenty or so people here, and we know that we cut down a few."

Taichi frowned at the Lieutenant, wondering aloud, "Who? Who do we know, for sure, was not involved in the murders?"

Smiling at his friends' slow mental process, he looked at the paper. "Well, myself, of course, and you. Tachikawa-san, Takenouchi-san, and let's not forget Ken-san and Inoue-san." Yamato frowned slightly. "Of course, none of us were there on the nights of all of the murders, but just in case the boss questions us, I want us off of the list anyways."

"Isn't that tampering with evidence?" Ken frowned.

Yamato sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he places his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I admit it, it is, but do you really want to let the Commander know that we frequent those clubs? What would he say? He would definitely take all of us off of the case; we have friends there, and he might assume that we will choose our friends before our job."

"You make a good point, but…"

"I understand that I could lose my badge for this, Ichijouji-san, but also, remember, technically, we're no longer evidence as we weren't there on all of the nights anyways." He winked. "The Commander might only want the list of those there on _all_ of the nights."

"And if he asks for the full lists?" This came from Taichi, who was slowly beginning to worry about the Lieutenant's sanity.

Yamato grinned, looking at the stunned and aghast expressions on his friends' faces. He wondered how long he should…

"Well, you know, we just give him the full list."

"With or without our names?"

"If you give him the 'edited' list, I feel that it would be my duty to report you, whether I'm taken off of this case or not." Ken slowly stood up, resolve strong on his features, letting the blond know that he meant business.

"Well, I'd give him the full list, with all of our names." Ken nearly fell over. "What? You guys actually believed me there? Man, both of you are slow. How could you believe that I would tamper evidence?" Yamato placed a hand over his heart, throwing his head back, mimicking pain. "Oh, my heart, it hurts."

An eraser smacked him on the forehead as Taichi cursed loudly. "Yamato-kun, I'm going to kill you one day."

Ken rolled his eyes, wondering why he had not caught onto Yamato's act earlier on. Sitting back down, he watched as the two argued, wondering just what had caused Yamato to be in such a good mood. All day the man had been smiling, barely shouting at anyone, and had had the patience of a saint. It was actually becoming rather frightening.

He couldn't help but wonder if Yamato had finally gotten laid, but he feared asking the tall blond such a personal question.

"So, Lieutenant, what's with the good mood today? You get laid last night or something?"

Oh, well, so much for fear. The worst the man could do is ask the Commander to pair Ken up with a new cop on night shift.

For the rest of his career.

Now he almost regretted his question. _Almost_.

Frowning, having paused in mid-throw in an attempt to a larger eraser back at Taichi, Yamato arched a brow in Ken's direction, almost as though he was asking the man just why the brunet had asked just a question.

Taichi, on the other hand, grinned broadly, his eyes aglow, and he looked like an overly eager school girl, nearly bursting with the latest gossip.

Why did the school girl in Ken's mind look so much like a younger Miyako?

"Weeeeeeell, I can answer that question for you!" Taichi's grin broadened as Yamato scowled in his direction. "Yamato for sure _almost_ got laid two nights ago! Ayah! That hurt!"

The brunet rubbed his head on the spot where the eraser had landed, reaching the spot from a fierce throw by Yamato. The blond, on the other hand, cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt. "As a matter of fact, I did get laid." The two men gaped. "But it wasn't this week," he added.

"So, uh, when was it?" Ken spoke slowly, treading carefully.

Yamato waved a hand. "A couple of weeks ago." He grinned. "And damn, it was _good_."

A glint of knowledge and triumph glittered in Taichi's eyes while Ken couldn't help but shrug, wondering why Taichi looked so confident and knowledgeable all of a sudden.

"With Tachikawa-san, right?"

Ken choked on the very air he was breathing as he heard Taichi's question.

Coughing loudly, hitting himself on the chest, he watched for Yamato's reaction. The blond had stiffened, tension evidently running through his body, and a faint blush had somehow managed to make its way onto the Lieutenant's cheeks, which, in itself, was a shock to the Detectives.

"Well, uh, I do not think I ought to say who I slept with; it's completely irrelevant." He was suddenly uncomfortable. He knew that if he were to say yes, Mimi would hear about it and never let him live. His chances with her would be completely and utterly destroyed, and that hurt him more than a bullet to the groin.

"You did, didn't you?" Taichi was egging him on, trying to get the truth out of the man, trying to get Yamato to say yes and that he loved her. But he was pushing it.

"Yagami-san, who or when I have sex is of no concern to yours. Now, if that's all you have to ask me, I suggest you go do your paperwork for the day. The same goes for you, Ichijouji-san. Please leave unless you have something relevant to the case to discuss."

Ken slowly stood up, adjusting his belt as he nodded towards Yamato, taking his papers and leaving the room. As the door shut behind him, Taichi stood up and strode over to Yamato's desk, leaning forward.

"Ishida-san, what's with all of this serious bit now? What, aren't you happy that you slept with her?"

Sighing heavily, Yamato caught sight of the determination glowing in his comrade and friend's eyes, and he knew that it would be easier if he gave in now instead of later. He would have fewer bruises.

"If you must know, yes, I did sleep with her, and yes, I am happy about that."

"But? I hear a but in there."

Running his hands through his hair, he watched as Taichi sat himself on the chair designated for guests, sitting Indian style to the best of his ability. The brunet leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, cupping his chin in the palms of his hands.

"Tell me. I'll be your therapist or something."

"How come I suddenly feel afraid?"

Taichi laughed. "Quit stalling."

Yamato closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. He didn't really want to divulge his thoughts with anyone at this moment, he wasn't in the mood to cut his heart, spread it open, and leave it exposed for the world to pick and poke at with their scalpels of supposed wisdom and advice. But, he trusted Taichi, and he knew that the man would not tell Sora or Mimi any of what he would say; it was their pact, their bond of friendship, that kept them close and like brothers.

Sighing heavily, he knew that he couldn't stall or lie; Taichi would put him on the spot and point in out in an instance, and he knew that if he refused to tell Taichi what was going on, the brunet would insinuate that there was something going on and might come to the wrong conclusion.

That was something Yamato wanted to avoid at all costs.

_Almost_ all costs.

Sighing heavily, he opened his eyes, knowing that he would have to give in, and sat forward. "If you _must_ know, Taichi, the sex was great, but, well, she's all of a sudden cold. She says that it's because she wants to get to know me, which means dating, and you know how I am with dating…"

The brunet laughed, his eyes glowing. "Of course I know how you are! You're terrible. You never get anything right, and I've never heard of any woman asking for a second date with you, unless the first date involved sex."

"Which a lot of them do," Yamato pointed out. "That's just the problem. She wants a no-sex, no-touch, no-fun date. Something where we talk and so forth, and that's the problem, because I … I want it too."

"You want what too? To get to know her?" Taichi's brows furrowed. "I'm confused, Yamato, you should always develop a bit more with your therapist; they'll know what you're talking about."

Rolling his eyes Yamato shrugged. "What I mean is that I _do_ want to get to know her, I want to know what makes her tick, what she likes, doesn't like, her favourite places to go, her dreams, I want to get to know _her_, not just her body, but her thoughts and her mind. To be honest, just that thought scares me because it means I care, doesn't it?" He laughed sharply. "I know that it's hard enough for you and Sora to have a relationship, but a therapist and a cop? We both work long hours and are overly dedicated to our jobs. It just won't work out. Besides, for all I know, she doesn't really care, but just wants an excuse to say no to me." He buried his face in his hands, exhaling loudly.

"And you're afraid that she will say no," Taichi finished. "Oh Kami, Yamato, you need to tell her this."

"Tell her what? That I _care_ about her? Look, to be honest, she'll probably be flattered and thank me for my kind words, and then leave me on the curb like last week's trash."

Now it was Taichi's turn to roll his eyes. "No, Yamato, you have to tell her that you _love_ her."

The blond's head jerked up, blue eyes big pools of confusion, shock, and faint glimmers of anger. Self-anger, self-hate, everything directed towards him and not the brunet before him. "I never said that."

Taichi laughed, standing up, purposely patting Yamato on the head just to annoy the crap out of him. "You never needed to. Come on, stop worrying about woman issues and let's get back to our work before the Commander shows up to kick our asses."

"I hate you."

Taichi blew a mock kiss back to his friend, who was now grinning. He knew what a relief it was to have it off of his chest, to have it out in the open to at least someone, even if it wasn't the one who deserved to know it. Someday, she would find out, but for now, he knew that Yamato would have to deal with it and try to figure out just how to tell her.

"I love you, too."

"I'm going to kill you."

"AYAH!"

* * *

Sora sighed; she hated washing dishes, washing dishes was the bane of her existence, the one thing that she absolutely hated with her very heart and soul, and the simple action was like poison, making her want to die.

Dirt sucked, dishes sucked, and, in the end, if you combined the two things together, you got the one thing that caused all of the troubles in the world.

Dirty dishes.

Chuckling to herself at her thoughts, she figured that maybe washing dishes made people insane, as well, just before they went in for the kill.

Just like poison.

A loud laugh bubbled from her mouth, filling the silence of the home, and she resumed with her duty as a roommate.

Maybe one day, when she started making more money, she would help Mimi pay for a maid who would do all of the dirty work for them. Sora hated cleaning, and, not only that, she was bad at it, too.

Picking up an already 'clean' dish, she scratched at the plate, finding cheese still crusted to it.

When did they have something with cheese last?

Yuck!

Still scratching at the plate, wondering if she should just toss it out, she listened to the silence of the home.

_Crash!_

Her head jerked down and her eyes widened; the plate was still whole and in her hands.

Rustling came from upstairs, loud movements, not concealed at all, and her eyes became as wide as the plate in her hands.

Someone was in her home.

Taking off her slippers, she slowly made her way over to the cupboards, opening a drawer and pulling out the Colt .45 that Taichi had given her as protection. Sliding a few bullets in place, she sent a word of thanks to her lover; he had made sure that she knew how to protect herself, which meant that she knew how to shoot a gun.

Putting her cell phone in her pocket, she slowly made her way to the bottom of the stairs, cautious of every creak and sound she made while moving. However, she knew that the intruder would barely be able to hear her; he was making far too much noise upstairs.

Making her way up the stairs, her heart pounded in her ribs. She knew that Taichi would scream at her for this, but she needed to know. This was her home, her house, and she would protect it, no matter what her boyfriend said to her. Someone had broken into her home and was trying to destroy her belongings; it was like they were destroying a part of her.

Her breath was growing shorter, her lungs slowly starting to moan for air, while her heart raged, beating faster and faster, and she feared that, instead of hearing creaks and cracks from the stairs, the intruder would just hear her heartbeat.

Intruder.

She kept thinking that it was just one, but how did she know that there was only one? For all she knew there were more than one.

What would she do then?

She was already down the hallway, too close to back away, too stupid to go back.

Her room was empty, no sound from there, and she didn't think an intruder would go into the bathroom first unless they were some kind of druggie.

Mimi's room.

Standing with her back to the wall, the door to her left, she raised the gun, slowly turning off the safety and she slid it back, preparing everything for what was to come.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, she willed her body to calm down; Taichi had taken her into training rooms before, paintball death matches, and she knew how to aim and shoot.

She listened in the room and heard only a muffled voice; her heart leapt with a small amount of joy and ease; there was only one person in her house aside from her. That made it easier.

All she had to do was hope that they didn't have a gun on them, or, that if they did; it wasn't something like a Desert Eagle or a shotgun.

Oh dear Kami, a Desert Eagle would blow her head apart.

Her throat shut with fear, her heart aching from racing too fast, and her lungs were dying, shriveling because she couldn't find any way to get more oxygen in her system.

She had to do it, she would do it, nobody would ever dare break into her house ever again.

Reaching out in the hallway, she found one a keypad for the alarm system, and pressed the symbol that signaled she needed the police. She knew, right away, that Taichi would be there with whomever else showed up; ever since they had installed the system, he made sure that he was notified whenever an alarm went off and he checked the home.

He wanted to make sure that it wasn't hers.

She knew that he would be scared, that he would rush to be firs ton the scene, and he would barge into the house within seconds, gun at hand, ready to fight a thousand men to protect her life.

She was ready to fight off one man to protect her home.

Taking in a slow, quiet, deep breath, she willed herself to relax before kicking the door open, gun at hand.

**There you go. Finished. I wasn't originally planning on having this thing with Sora until the next chapter, but I felt that we haven't had enough drama in the past two chapters, and I wanted to do something different.**

**I found that a lot of writers would've made it Mimi or Yamato barge into the room, and that Mimi would've been nearly fatally wounded, or Yamato would've kicked ass. This time, I decided that a secondary character deserved some time in the limelight.**

**It's only fair, right?**

**Anyways, please review, my rule is still set up, and if you see any errors, please feel free to correct them. Thankies!  
**

**Oh, and if you feel like checking it out, I posted a story in Harry Potter, just go to my profile and you should find a link for it. **

**Just in case someone is interested. **

**I'll try to post the next chapter a little quicker.**

**Ja ne!**


	19. Never Leave

**Chapter 19**

**Never Leave**

Parking her car in the driveway, Mimi rubbed the bridge of her nose. It had been a heck of a long day, and she was looking forward to coming home, picking up her favourite book, and sitting in the bathtub, relaxing and abating the headache that was slowly starting to grow at the back of her head.

Closing her eyes, she yawned, and got out of her car, stretching her arms high above her head. Pulling out her work bag and purse, she shut the door, locked it, and made her way to the house, her keys jingling cheerfully, as though they anticipated a welcoming home and warm bath like their owner.

As she reached the front steps, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her eyes became slits. Her heart instantly began to pound in her chest and her breath quickened. Her body immediately went into overdrive, switching into her flight-or-fight mode within mere seconds.

Adjusting her keys in her hand, ensuring that they could easily be used as a weapon, she let her bag and purse fall outside of the door, before placing her hand on the wooden object.

It opened with ease.

Her eyes widened with shock; Sora never left the door unlocked and open, even if she was home.

Stepping into the home, her heart wrenched with pain and she felt breathless, as though someone had just come up and rammed a hammer into her chest.

The banister on the stairs was broken in a spot, as though something had been thrown against and through them. A gun lay on the steps, bullets strewn everywhere, and the picture painting at the top of the stairs was at the bottom, shattered, glass covering the floor.

A portion of the painting must have broken because there was red on the floor …

She frowned, her heart rate speeding up exponentially; their painting was black and white…

Her eyes fell on the crumpled body lying in the hallway, the body that had been thrown through the banister and tossed down the stairs like a rag doll. Blood dripped from their face, a broken nose, torn lip, and obviously broken arm. There was blood spattered on the steps, and Mimi feared that it came from the prone body before her.

She saw the auburn hair, caught sight of the tanned skin, and her entire world stopped.

Panicked filled her, bubbling out of her throat in a loud, keening sound that filled the silence of the house. Her footsteps startled her and she fell to her knees in front of her friend, cradling the girl's head in her lap. Hugging her to her body, she cried, screamed, did anything she could do to let out the pain that was welling and overflowing from her body.

She fumbled, panicked, checking for a heartbeat through the blood that have poured from her nose onto her throat.

She found it, feeble, but there, and relief so strong it shook her body washed over her. Her throat choked, clenching shut as she fought back sobs, stroking her friend's hair.

"Sora … oh Sora … please, please don't leave me…"

It hurt, it hurt so much to see her friend on the ground, bloodied and unconscious, exposed to the world, still wearing the apron she normally wore when washing dishes.

She couldn't hear anything except for the soft, rattling breath that came from Sora's mouth, holding onto that sound, needing to hear it every second for fear that she, too, might suffocate and die without it. She kept her fingertips on the pulse, needing to feel that ebb and flow of life through her friend's veins, needing to know that her friend would stay alive.

"Sora … Please … Wake up…"

Her face twisted into an ugly grimace, tears pouring out of her eyes as pain overwhelmed her.

She couldn't lose her, she couldn't … she wouldn't survive without her friend, smiling and laughing, cursing the dishes and teasing Mimi about the littlest of things.

Sora was the sister she had never been graced with, she was the person who kept her grounded, who pushed the nightmares away and held her when she cried. Sora was her life, and if she lost Sora, she knew that she would lose everything…

She never heard the police cars arrive, was not aware of the men charging into the house, but she screamed when a man's arms came around her, carrying her away from her friend. She became aware of the guttural howl of pain as a familiar brunet threw himself at the woman she was being taken away from.

She couldn't … she had to touch her, had to feel her, had to know that she would live. She couldn't let go.

Lunging out of the man's arms, she held Sora's hand, reaching for the unbroken arm, and clutched it with dear life.

"I'll never let you go… I promise, Sora…Stop. Stop!"

She held on as long and with as much strength as she could, but she was dragged away, screaming and sobbing, reaching out as much as she could, until finally, Sora's hand fell from hers, falling limply at her side.

"Sora. Sora!"

* * *

They had been on their lunch break, sitting and enjoying their meal at the Central's cafeteria, Yamato cursing Taichi for having a homemade lunch while he was forced to purchase the mediocre slop they called food at the cafeteria.

The brunet had sighed heavily when his beeper went off, but Yamato frowned as his face hardened, anxiety glimmering in his eyes, tension filling his body.

In seconds their food was forgotten, left on the table, and they were gone, in Yamato's Mazda RX-7, rushing down the streets with the lights flashing red and blue, honking at any car that didn't move out of the way fast enough.

He had refused to let Taichi drive when he had heard the news; he feared that the man would be far too reckless and would only cause more damage than good.

His eyes had kept darting back to him, watching the ways his knuckles changed to white, how his face became stone-like, but his eyes alive with so many emotions that Yamato found it hard to read them.

He had to stay calm and cool, listen to Taichi curse and scream, while on the inside, he was doing the same thing.

Was Mimi at work? Had she gone home for lunch? Was anyone hurt?

Oh Kami-sama, if Mimi was dead he had no idea what he would do … his heart twisted painfully at the thought and nausea rose from his stomach, threatening him to think the thoughts once more.

He couldn't … he couldn't think about it; it hurt too much, far too much, and he didn't know if he would be able to live through the pain of holding her frail body, lifeless and pale, hugging her for the last time before he let her go forever.

No, he had to get there in time, he had to get there before everyone else, had to make sure that she was all right, that Sora was all right, he had to hold her in his arms, kiss her and hug her, and tell her just how he felt.

She wasn't allowed to die until she knew how he felt.

There was a car in driveway and he just barely fought off the panic-attack as he recognized it as the car the girls shared, the car that he knew Mimi took to work every second day. The car that he knew Mimi had taken in because it was Sora's day off…

The front door was open, and, in record speed, they parked, slammed the doors shut, locked them, had their guns out and ready, and were rushing to the front door.

Just as they rushed in, the other police arrived, and Yamato felt his stomach fall to the core of the earth, his heart following.

Taichi howled like an injured beast and ran over to his love, falling to his knees, cradling her, touching her, sobbing over her injured body.

Yamato's eyes, on the other hand, fell on the woman holding the victim's head, stroking her hair, making the strangest keening sound he had ever heard. He saw the gun on the steps, taking in the broken picture, the smashed banister, and the blood that had splattered on the floor and was pooling underneath the victim.

He quickly analyzed the scene, saw the broken arm, knew that the lip was shorn, the nose broken and bruised under the blood, he saw the bruises she would have in a few hours that would turn her back into a mottled black and blue colour. He saw the fight; saw her fending off an unknown attacker, holding up the gun Taichi had given to her as a gift. Saw her aim, he didn't know it she shot; he didn't see any bullet holes downstairs, and he saw the attacker lunge at her, throwing her down the stairs.

He heard the sickening crunch as her arm broken, flying out to stop her fall, and heard her scream of pain until her head hit the ground, darkness filling her vision.

He wanted to go over the hold the woman kneeling, he wanted to touch her body, to run his hands up and down her, and thank Kami that she had not been injured. He wanted to touch her and make sure that she was all right, but, at the moment, he had to check the perimeters before having a nice shouting match with her about staying outside next time.

Just as he made his way up the stairs, reaching the top of the landing, her heard her shrill scream, he voice screeching out Sora's name, choking from her sobs, and he fought the hardest battle of his life as he forced himself to turn away and walk down the hallway, gun out.

He listened to her scream, knowing that a police officer was currently trying to drag her away from Sora, and he made a note to find the officer's name and give him a written warning as soon as he was back at central. For now, he had to ensure the security of his officers and friends.

He examined each room, scrutinized them, finding nothing in Sora's and no sign in the shared bathroom. Slipping into Mimi's room he felt his heart wrenched with pain.

The balcony window had been forcefully opened, a crack running down the window, and he saw that the mirror above her dresser was broken into thousands of shards on her floor. The white rug she had at the base of her bed was covered in red, and the smell of wine hit him with blunt force. He would have to remove the smell in case his weaker officers somehow got drunk off of it.

Taking note of the three bullets holes in the wall by the balcony, which was parallel to the bedroom door, he mentally noted that he should check the number of bullets on the stairs.

The bed was torn apart, blankets tossed everywhere, the sheets, the smooth, crimson sheets that had become one of his favourite things in the world, were shredded. Her dresser was open, underwear strewn across the floor, tossed on the bed, her bras, teddies, corsets, anything that was classified as lingerie, as spread across the room.

Making his way over to the mirrored doors of her closet, he found them open, her fetish outfits torn off of the racks, all piled on the ground.

He was actually grateful that the attacker had not taken the knife to her clothes; despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt himself want to see Mimi dressed in every little skimpy outfit.

_'Get a grip of yourself,'_ he thought, literally shaking his head to get the various sexual images out of his mind.

Keeping the door open, he slid out of the room, headed downstairs, where two officers emerged from the hallway, signaling that the kitchen, closet, and downstairs bathroom were clean.

Nodding his head to signal upstairs, he told them where to go and to start collecting evidence. As they passed, he wanted to tell them not to touch the underwear and clothes, but he knew that he couldn't; it would appear far too odd.

Kneeling at the base of the steps, he didn't touch the bullets as he counted them, checked the gun visually, and ensured that the three bullets in the wall made up the missing three bullets from the gun. They would only, however, be able to completely assure that once they were in ballistics and tested.

For now, he could only hope that there wasn't one embedded somewhere in Sora's body.

Kneeling beside Taichi, who was overseeing the paramedics as they began to prepare Sora for the ambulance, he placed his hand on the man's shoulder as a way of comforting. Taichi looked up at him, his face suddenly gaunt, eyes red from tears, cheeks hollowed out as though he had spent a week without eating or sleeping.

"She'll be all right."

Taichi slowly nodded. "I know … they said that she doesn't seem in critical danger …" He smiled a broken smile that never reached his eyes. "That's good, right?"

Yamato nodded, seeing the glimmer of hope in his friend's eyes. "Yes, it's very good. It means that she'll live." He slowly stood up, mentioning something about going outside to check on the officers out there, and, once he stepped out of the home, he searched for the dark-haired woman who had stolen his heart and nearly made him bleed.

He found her sitting on the edge of an ambulance parked by the curb, currently being attended to by the paramedics. He made his way over to her, purposely dodging all men who seemed to want to speak with him, his eyes focused only on the woman being covered by a blanket and checked on by the medic.

"Is she okay?"

The medic looked up, and Yamato grinned. "Koichi-san, didn't expect to see you here today."

The brunet shrugged, his short dark hair shifting slightly from its spiked-up placement. "You never know, eh?" His blue eyes looked over Yamato, dark against the pale skin of his thin body. "So, you here to investigate?"

"It's all part of the job." He then added, "Taichi's here, too, Sora's inside."

The man paled, but focused all of his attention on checking Mimi's heartbeat. "Really? Shit, I just got the call that there was someone injured in a breaking and entering. Nobody told me it was a cop's girlfriend."

"We try to keep it on the lowdown; if we told everyone that a cop's significant other was in danger, it might seem that we're giving them special treatment over everyone else. It wouldn't be fair." He crossed his arms, purposely not looking at the woman sitting down near him. He was afraid that if he looked into her eyes and saw the terror there, he wouldn't have the heart to even begin their shouting match.

"So, I ask again, is Tachikawa-san okay?"

Koichi nodded, standing back from the girl. "Yeah, she's just suffering from a bit of shock, but that's expected. Other than that, she's fine."

"Good. So, can I have a minute alone with her? I need to talk to her."

He nodded. "Yeah, just don't stress her too much. I'm inside if you need me; I have to show the boys how to set her arm." He shuddered. "It's bad, eh?"

Yamato nodded slowly. "She'll be lucky if she doesn't need surgery to fix it." He then glanced at Mimi. "But, her life isn't in danger," he looked back to Koichi, "Taichi said that your partners said she's stable."

"That's good, it'll make life easier on all of us," Koichi replied, knowing just as much as Yamato that it would make life easiest on Taichi and girl in front of him.

Taking off his gloves, pulling a new pair out of his pocket, he made his way over to the crime scene, muttering something to himself about idiots these days.

Once he was out of earshot, Yamato turned on Mimi, needing to get it out as quickly as possible.

"You_baka_."

She jerked back with surprise, eyes widening momentarily before falling into slits that exposed sudden anger and irritation.

"Don't you call me the _baka_, you _baka_. Did you guys think you could take your damn sweet time getting here? She could have _died_!"

"And so could have you!" Yamato's voice rose as he pointed out the obvious. "You barged into that house, unarmed, and I _know_ that you weren't the one to call us! Your car was still warm when we got here, so don't give me some bullshit story telling me that we took our sweet time. We got the call at 12:05, and it's not 12:13, we were here within four minutes, and it took us another four to check the perimeter, drag you from her, check you, and get her stable." He wanted to punch the side of the ambulance because of her crude accusations.

"You, on the other hand, showed up, probably a minute or so after she fell down the stairs, and you rushed into that house without thinking! What the hell were you thinking? What did you think you could accomplish? Yeah, run into a fucking house and get fucked up like her?"

"What did you want me to do? It's my house!" She jumped off of the seat; standing in front of him, head tilted back to meet his eyes. "I'm not going to just stand outside, wondering why my front door is open, and wait for you big macho men to show up and take over! She's my _friend_! I _care_ about her! How can you expect me to stay outside and wonder if she's all right?" She jabbed at his chest with her index finger, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're such a heartless bastard."

He jerked back at her words, not at all frightened by her sudden violence, and wondered briefly about her words. _Heartless._ Was he really a heartless bastard? But he cared about her; that must mean something, right? Heartless people wouldn't be able to care about others.

"You're the _baka_, end of argument. Next time you come home and find something amiss, _get the fuck out_ so that way you don't end up like Sora! In a few weeks, when she's more than well enough, I'm going to give her the same damn speech. Don't fucking jump the gun! At least she had a gun! You were completely unarmed, defenseless, and you went in there without even a first thought!" He wanted to smack something, anything, and at the same time he wanted to feel her slap him. "You're a fucking _baka_ and you know it."

This prompted her to punch him hard in the arm, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "You're such an asshole! How could you know what it's like, coming home and finding the place destroyed? Would you be able to wait outside until the cops came, wondering if Taichi was okay? If Sora was injured? Not knowing if _I_ was dead?"

The last part shocked the two of them, causing him to take a step back and her hand to lower. Her eyes fell to the asphalt under their feet, frozen from the cold November weather, a few places spotted with ice from the recent rainfall they had gotten, which had successfully melted the small amount of snow.

His heart leapt with joy; did that mean that she wanted something more? Did it mean that she, too, cared about him? He wasn't sure, but what he did know was that, from the shocked look of her expression, she had not meant to say such a thing, and that thing came from the heart.

"Mimi-san, if I had to wait, I would probably tie myself to a tree to make sure that I didn't hurt. How do you think Sora would've felt if you had gone in to rescue her and you ended up injured worse than her? Or, worse, dead? How can you expect her to live with such guilt, knowing that it was because of her that you came in and died?" He reached out a held her shoulders. "It's not fair; I know you love her, you care about her, but next time, just wait outside. Really, you would've waited for maybe a minute or two at the most."

She slowly nodded, giving up as tears flowed from her eyes. He couldn't help it; he dragged her body to his, holding her close in his warm, comforting embrace. She sniffled against his chest, sobbing loudly on his shirt, and her felt moisture where her tears already began to soak through the material.

"I … I had my keys…" she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He looked down at her and wanted to sigh with happiness; she felt so good in his arms, and he felt his heart begin to beat at its normal pace, back where it belonged, his panic abated and fear diminished.

She was safe, and that's all that mattered.

"I could use them as a weapon," she muttered, embarrassment obvious in her voice.

He threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

They sat in the hospital waiting room, Taichi having immediately clocked out, while Yamato remained on shift. He was posing as a security guard and had asked for permission to be the one to question Sora. He felt that it would be unfair to have anyone else do it; he would let Taichi be present, and he wouldn't press her too hard, like some would.

He would take note of her condition.

Mimi constantly shifted beside him, moving in her seat, squirming at though she would get up and run any minute now.

She hated hospitals.

They smelt too clean, too much like antiseptic and various other disinfectants. She hated the cleanliness of the immaculate white walls, the uncomfortable chairs that had been designed to be 'comfortable,' she hated the sounds of the wailing and beeping, she quiet rush of feet as doctors ran from one emergency to another, and, most of all, she hated waiting.

Hospitals were places of death, decay, a place of pain, where people lay in bed for weeks on end, in sheer agony, wanting the entire world to just shut down and give up on them.

She knew that feeling; she had spent a good month in the hospital a few years back, and each day she wanted to die.

Then again, her body had not been the only thing that was broken; her heart had been shattered into a million fragments that had cut up her very soul.

She wanted to leave, but leaving mean that she would leave Sora, and she promised to never leave Sora. She had to be there when the woman woke up, when she would be disoriented and in pain, and Mimi would hold her hand while Taichi kissed her face, and they would profess their love for her, Mimi's being platonic, and Taichi's mixed with lust and desire, with a need so powerful it had literally brought him to his knees when seeing her on the ground, almost dead.

Instead, she squirmed in her seat, wanting to see Sora alive and to leave this place of death. She couldn't stand it, the muffled silences, the waiting, the anxiety, and the deathly chill that filled the antiseptic scented air.

It made her think of too many bad times, when she had been alone, woken up alone, and left alone, without anyone who cared for her to help her learn to walk, to feed her when she couldn't…to tell her that they loved her.

She would be there for Sora, despite her anxiety, despite her fears, she would be there to hold Sora's hand and profess her platonic, sisterly love for the woman who risked her life to defend their home.

She wanted to yell at her, tell her that she had been stupid, that this wasn't Braveheart or some other movie of the like. Personal possessions could be replaced, but Sora couldn't.

Taichi, meanwhile, leapt to his feet and began to pace, back and forth, back and forth; waiting impatiently for his love to come out, for the doctor to finish the surgery and tell them that she was all right. He wanted to leave as much as Mimi did, but not for the same reasons.

He wanted to be alone with Sora, to make sweet tender love with her, and say an infinite number of times just how much he loved her.

He ran his hands through his already unruly hair, refusing all drink and food, pushing anyone back, telling them to kindly fuck off and let him have his space. He could not refuse Yamato and Mimi.

Yamato was his current lifeline, while Mimi … he knew that she wanted to leave the place just as much as he did, maybe more, and he thanked her a thousand times over for staying by his side and constantly reminding him in her quiet voice of Sora's stable condition and that the surgery was just to fix her arm.

Would she be able to use her arm again? Would she be able to play tennis like she used to?

He wanted to make her attacker pay, he wanted to see red and anger, to have his vision clouded scarlet with vengeance, and he wanted to watch the attacker die in the most agonizing way possible.

But right now, he had to stay in this ivory place and pace, waiting for her to come out and come home with him.

He wanted to shout, to curse, to scream as loud as he could, do anything to disrupt the endless silence of the hospital; he hated the silence with a passion. It meant that he had to wait, to just sit there, in silence, and wait patiently, listening to the silence, wanting to hear the doctor's voice, when all he got was _silence_.

For fuck's sake, he needed her, he wanted her in his arms, to hug her close and scream at her at the same time.

She was stupid, but he loved her for being stupid, and he wanted to make the intruder pay and just keep quiet about her lack of common sense. He didn't want to pin any blame on her; she didn't deserve it.

He would let Yamato do that, let Yamato do the much needed speech that would let Sora know how much of an idiot she had been. He, on the other hand, would hold Sora's hand and profess his undying love for her, and, at the very back of his mind, he would scold her for being too reckless. But he wouldn't dare say it aloud; he loved her too much to tell her when she did things wrong…

Wanting to groan and scream with frustration, his eyes fell on the clock above the door leading out of the waiting room.

4:52 pm.

She had been in surgery for nearly three hours now. When the hell were they going to finish?

Panic rose in his chest as dark thoughts filled his mind, worry overcoming all other feelings of frustration and irritation. What if something had gone wrong? What if they had cut open an artery by accident? Or if the bone had broken so badly that they weren't able to fix it? Would she come out of the surgery alive and without an arm? Or would she never come out again, lying on the table until she turned as cold and blue as some victims he found on cold, winter nights?

Tears sprung to his eyes as nausea rose in his throat, bile threatening to spill out while his heart painfully froze and ceased to beat.

No…

No.

No!

He spun to face the door, ready to rush out of the waiting room and into the operating room. He couldn't let her die! Without her, what would he be? He would be nothing! Absolutely nothing! He wouldn't feel, wouldn't taste, would never know love ever again, and he would become an empty shell. She was his support, his strength, his fucking everything!

He ignored Mimi's words as she tried to tell him that Sora was stable; she was not. She couldn't be. Not unless he was there, giving her all of the strength just like she had, so many times before, had given him her strength and love.

He tried to run to the door but felt himself being pulled back. He fought against the tendrils of darkness that had emerged and were trying to stop what was becoming an inevitable death, but he couldn't push them away.

"Let me go!" he shouted, tugging and yanking at hard as he could.

He had to go to her.

She was going to die; he couldn't let her die.

If she died then he would die.

"Taichi, please, come to your senses!"

He was dimly aware of the voice at the back of his mind, the man's deep voice as it tried to lull him out of his reveries of death and pull him back to reality. But he was already in deep and feared that, in the end, the voice would force him to go into the dreams and pull him out of what he considered to be reality.

"No! I won't let you stop me!"

"Taichi-san…"

The second voice was softer, female, and filled with … pain? Hurt? What was it? How come he felt that he could understand the feelings in the voice?

Who was talking to him?

The hands against his cheeks were cold but gentle, smooth skin that made him want to close his eyes and fall asleep as he laid his head in their lap. They were speaking again, that tender and sweet voice, trying to lull him from the darkness and pull him back into a world of hope and joy.

"Taichi-san, please, don't worry. She will be fine. We're here for you; we'll hold your hand, we'll hug you and hold you, and we'll be there with you when she wakes up." He saw pale amber eyes now, glowing against flesh the colour of moonlight. "She will wake up, I promise. She's okay; she has you waiting for her. She wouldn't dare leave you behind; she loves you too much."

He recognized the voice, the voice of a woman who felt so much like a sister to him of late. The voice that produced such soothing words, words that he knew she had used on patients before when they went into violent bouts… words that had managed to qualm his fears and spring some sense of hope within his heart.

"Mimi-san…"

They stood there as reality kicked in, and he became fully aware that strong arms were holding him back, and he turned his head, meeting gentle blue eyes that were filled with concern, anxiety, and determination. Embarrassment caused Taichi's cheeks to turn a brilliant shade of crimson as he realized just how silly they must have looked. Yamato holding him from behind, Mimi cupping his face in her hands, with him struggling between them like a criminal he had recently watched Miyako bring in.

Jerking away from their hold, he hugged himself tightly. He felt silly; how could he have lost such control?

"Guys … I'm …"

"You're waiting for Takenouchi-san's report, I presume?"

The three of them turned in unison to find an unfamiliar face at the door. The doctor wore a clean, white smock over the simple, green operating clothes. A mask hung around his throat, having recently been loosened, and his balding head was still in the protective shower-cap like hat.

"Doctor Sugiyama, I presume?" This came from Yamato, who knew that Taichi's voice would not be strong enough just yet to speak in front of the man. Furthermore, he couldn't help but nearly replicate what the doctor had said; the man had given them a strange look, rather condescending, and his voice had held a note of arrogance in it that Yamato rather disliked.

"Then I have the right room." The crows' feet around the man's eyes crinkled as he smiled gently at the threesome. Yamato's annoyance eased slightly. "Well, the operation went well. We managed to fix the arm, but she will have to do extensive physiotherapy for a good couple of months before she will be able to play sports for a while. She's stable, and it seems that_Kami_ is with you today."

"How so?" Mimi blurted out the question before anyone could even guess at the doctor's words.

The smile broadened. "Like I said, Takenouchi-san is in a stable condition and, despite the hard fall she took, the baby is fine, as well."

"Baby?" Taichi choked out, suddenly growing paler by the second.

"Yes. I assume you do not want to know the sex of the child?" The doctor seemed rather oblivious to Taichi's reaction.

The brunet crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

It had taken some time before Yamato and Mimi could leave the hospital; first there was the issue with Taichi's womanly fainting spell, and then Yamato had needed to interrogate and, in Mimi's words, bitch to Sora about her actions, and there were papers to sign, people to talk to, and finally, at 7:34 pm, they were able to leave and head home.

Yamato nearly laughed during the entire car ride, finding it quite silly that Taichi had stood managed to stand his ground when Sora was being carried away on a stretcher, he had never once fainted at the sight of a dead, mutilated body, but the thought of an unborn child in the stomach of his loved one had scared the man shitless.

Mimi, on the other hand, was finding every excuse to punch the blond in the shoulder.

"You're not nice! That was quite a shock for him! You have _no idea_ as to how he must have felt! You horrible, horrible man!"

But still Yamato laughed, his eyes glowing like sapphires in sunlight. "But … it's Taichi … and, oh _Kami_, my side hurts … he just _fainted_!"

"You're such an asshole."

He laughed harder as she turned her head away from his, looking out of the window. She thought back to the events of the day; it had been a long day, not only because of the random cancellations that morning with clients, but because of everything that had occurred in the afternoon.

As she had sat in the room with Sora, holding the girl's hand, looking at her pale face, Mimi only then realized just how much she had taken her friend for granted. She had become so used to having Sora there for her, holding her when she got sick, hugging her tightly when she was afraid, and she couldn't remember the last time when _she_ had been there for Sora. It made her heart clench painfully in her chest.

But she was there today, and had promised to come by and visit every day if she could. She didn't want to leave Sora alone ever again.

Taichi had immediately taken a three day leave of absence from work, but the Commander had refused to give him more; they still had a difficult case to handle, and they couldn't delay the solving of the crimes for any extended period of time because "some girlfriend got hurt," according to the man.

Mimi had found the man to be rather cold-hearted, and Yamato had secretly agreed with her. Did the man not have a family of his own? Or any friends like Sora and Taichi in his life? She guessed not.

She didn't want to think of people with hearts as cold as November nights, or even try to remember Sora's voice when she had spoken, the quietness, the pain in it, the way her bruised and stitched lip moved when she tried to speak. Sora didn't know about the baby yet; Taichi was waiting to tell her when she got better because he feared the shock might hinder her rehabilitation.

Mimi had wanted to scoff. Like something as joyous as hearing that you're pregnant might _slow down_ your healing process? She didn't think so.

Instead, she had let shock overwhelm her when Yamato had bluntly stated that the room damaged had been her own. Of course, maybe she ought to have expected it, since her room was the only one with the balcony, but when Yamato, while alone, had later told her of the destruction, she felt a thread of unease wind itself around her heart and freeze her soul.

Somebody had intended to harm her possessions.

What if Yamato had been right and the man had still been in the house when she had come home? What would have happened? Would she be lying in a hospital bed, like Sora, badly injured and needing to wait several days before she could leave? Or would be like Rumiko, lying on a cold slab, her dead body being poked at by Jenrya-san and examined by some random psychiatrist like her?

Dear_Kami_-sama, she didn't want to think about it.

"I assume you'll be staying at Taichi and my place tonight?"

The question came from Yamato, who's voice had pulled her out of her stressful reveries long enough to make her completely forget about what she had been thinking of.

"Pardon?"

The use of the polite word made his stomach clench; close friends and lovers never said 'pardon' to one another; they were more familiar with each other and said 'what.'

He tried to ignore the pain and pushed it aside. "I asked if you were going to stay at my place tonight. Taichi and I share an apartment a little closer to downtown, and you can't go home."

She gnawed on her lower lip. She hadn't considered that bit of information. It was true; her duplex had become a crime scene now, with tape over the doors and crime scene investigators poking at every little hole to find as much evidence as they could.

She wouldn't be able to step foot in her home …

"What about my clothes? My briefcase with my papers? My _stuff_?!"

"I managed to kidnap your briefcase and have it in the trunk, and your stuff is now part of the investigation until they find it useless in the trial."

"Against who, Ishida-san? Sora said that the guy was wearing a mask, almost like he knew that she would be home…"

"Yes, I heard that bit, but you'll be amazed by what technology can do for us these days." He glanced at her, letting his eyes stray only momentarily from the in front of him. She was pale, paler than usual, and her black hair made her skin glow brilliantly in the dim light of the street lamps overhead.

"So I can't get any of my stuff?" There was a definite whine to her voice.

"Afraid not; we'll go clothing shopping tomorrow for you, and then we'll go back and get your car. I expect that you'll be taking a leave from work?" He wanted to look at her again; he found that he could never look at her long enough, hold her enough, be close enough to her … he always needed more.

Was this love?

"I hadn't thought about that. I guess I will have to go shopping for some new clothes for the time being." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "It's a good thing I always have stuff in my savings."

"It's just clothes, not buying a whole new life you know. And besides, you'll only need enough for a week or two; the CSI unit usually doesn't take longer than that to collect all the evidence they need." He grinned. "They're the best in the country."

"You always need to have the best, don't you?" she blurted, a blush suddenly covering her cheeks.

He winked at her playfully. "Of course. Don't you?"

"I would never settle for second best," she replied indignantly with the blush still on her cheeks.

He grinned. "I thought so." He turned away from her house, heading closer to the city limits. "All right, so, tomorrow morning you'll call your boss, tell him what's going on, and we'll proceed from there, sound good?"

"Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"You're lucky; it's my day off. You get to spend an entire day with yours truly, aren't you excited?"

She snorted loudly. "Not in the least bit."

He laughed softly, choosing to ignore her sarcastic statement. For a while he focused on driving before an idea hit him.

"So, since we'll be together in the car for another ten minutes, how about we do the introductions of 'How to Get to Know Each Other 101'?" He felt rather smart at thinking of such a brilliant thing, so smart that, in the end, he felt rather silly.

She frowned at him, suspicion glittering in her eyes. "You're not using this as some ploy to sleep with me tonight, are you?"

Well, it seemed that he had finally roused the foxy little vixen in Mimi, along with her comical and sarcastic parts. This was something interesting.

"Well, technically we will be sleeping together, in the same place, but you know, we will actually be sleeping-sleeping, no sex-sleeping." He winked. "Although I wouldn't mind either," he added without thinking.

She wanted to slap him. Men were always like that, thinking only with their hard-ons. But Yamato was … different. She wasn't sure how, but something told her that he wasn't just using words his raging erection put into his mind. These were words from somewhere else…

Where?

The heart?

Ha! As if!

Lounging in the car seat, she closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "And just_where_ would I sleep? Last I heard, Sora said that you guys only have two bedrooms, and a small living room."

"I have a futon in my room that you could use." The sexual suggestion was there, hanging in the air, and she couldn't miss it. It was that obvious.

She rolled her eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see them; they were still shut, and moistened her lips. "You really don't stop, do you?"

"Nope; it's too much fun." She heard the laughter in his voice.

"I guess I could drag the futon into the living room and set up camp there. But," she sat up and stared at him, all seriousness returning to the situation, "I will pay for my own food, I will use my own shampoo and everything, and tonight, before I got to bed, I'll wash my clothes and dry them so they'll be ready for tomorrow."

"Sounds fine with me, although I really don't mind sharing food with you; I am, technically, your caretaker now."

"Caretaker? You make me sound like someone who's too mentally unstable to take care of themselves!" He let out a barking laugh.

"Okay, bad word, but, if you want to go into technicalities, I'm taking care of you, not the other way around, and you are guest. Guests aren't supposed to buy their own groceries, cook their own meals, and so forth. You can wash your own clothes, but I refuse to let you go out and buy a pile of groceries just for yourself."

She huffed loudly, ready to argue but far too exhausted to do so. It was already 8 o'clock, and she really wasn't looking forward to spending the next two hours with him. There was just far too much sexual tension between them. She feared that, in the middle of the night, one of them would sneak into the other's bed and they would spend the night making hot, sweet, passionate love.

What was worse was that she was more likely to sneak into his bed than he was likely to sneak into hers.

Again, she rolled her eyes and focused on the passing streets and lights, looking up as the buildings grew taller the further they went into the city.

She would just have to deal with the fact that she was, officially, a guest at his and Taichi's place, and that it would stay that way until her apartment was declared clean of all important evidence.

That could take weeks.

She groaned.

At least Sora would be able to keep her company next week…

**There you go. I wasn't sure if I wanted to put in the fight scene between Sora and the 'hidden' man or not, so I decided to not put it. It was a major decision, since my original idea was to put it in, but there would be too many things I would have to leave out because you guys might guess who's behind the break-ins. So, I left it open.**

**Also, I kept getting random writer's blocks in the chapter, so I apologize if it sucks balls. It's not my fault, it's my brain's creative side's fault. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. **

**By the way, I would like to celebrate the creation of my first ever one-shot, called Aphrodisiac. I was really excited because, on the first few hours I had it posted, I got 10 reviews! (And it was a Harry Potter one, and some Harry Potter fans can be so fickle). **

**Anyways, so, the next chapter might take a bit longer, since I will be working on a SECOND oneshot, and I will be rewriting the first chapter to A Reason to Live, since, even to me, it seems long and pointless. Meh, I'll look over it and have fun with it.  
**

**Psh. I want mine to have more DEPTH!**

**Anyways, please review; my rule is still standing, and if somebody knows whether Nesha is alive or not, please tell me so I can yell at her to update Emancipation. Thanks.**

**Ja ne!**


	20. A NotSoFoolish Fool's Story

**Disclaimer: this chapter involves an erotic scene known as a lemon. Please be warned, there will be sex. However, this sex will be … different from Chapter 15. (Sorry, no yaoi, I do not feel like turning this into a YamatoxTaichi fic. Maybe I'll make one in the future…)**

**So yes: if any form of sex (hardcore, softcore, yaoi, yuri, et cetera) offends you, please refrain from reading that part of this chapter. I do not feel like noting when it begins, since putting down (ZOMG! SEX! SEX! LEMON STARTS NOW!) kind of ruins the flow of the chapter. **

**Anyways, please enjoy, and I'm sorry for having not updated sooner.**

**Chapter 20**

**A Not-So-Foolish Fool's Story**

They stood in the dimly lit room, their shadows being the only way to tell who stood where, the size of them, the shape of them, enabling them to tell just who was who; they were so different in size, all three of them.

A man stood by a desk, leaning on it, tall and thin, his voice deep as he spoke, vibrating throughout the room, representing his dominance over the other two men. It was strange, since he was not the leader of the group, but the man with the brains and the money to help the other two out.

"You fucked up."

A shorter figure stood nearby, a ray of moonlight falling onto his hands, which gripped the back of a chair painfully hard, knuckles stark white in contrast to the surrounding darkness.

"I know." His voice was softer, cracking slightly as panic overwhelmed the shadowy figure. "But, I can make up for it, I can fix it."

"Fix it how?" the lean figure spat. "Can you turn back time and make sure that you didn't fuck up to the point where the police are swarming all over the place? I highly doubt that. You fucked up, and you were supposed to be the head of this. I'm thinking about just taking the money and forgetting either of you ever came to me."

"No! Please, anything but that! Don't do that; we … we need your help." This came from the tallest figure in the room, the build like that of an American football player, the voice the softest, but holding far more strength than the second man. "We need you to keep the other video tapes hidden; we need you to help us, just until we've finished what we've started."

"No, not until you two have finished, I have to keep them until _he_ has finished." The man made a movement, obviously gesturing to the short man by the chair. "This is all his idea, we're just pawns, tools, he's using us to get what he wants, and he doesn't care if we get caught; all the evidence will point to us in the end, not to him. That's exactly what he wants."

"You're smart," the short man pointed out, "very smart, and that's why I asked for your help."

"And you're supposed to be the leader, and leaders don't fuck up."

"Goddamn it! I know!" The chair went flying to the side, crashing to the floor with a loud bang. "Fuck! What am I supposed to do now?"

"Thank _Kami_ that you were wearing gloves at the time?"

"Fuck off," he spat at the bigger man. "I fucked up, I know it, and I need to find a way to fix it."

There was silence in the room as all three figures considered the situation as well as their place in this plan. The lean man was the one with the money, the one used to hide things that he could hide, and keep them hidden. He was the one with secrets nobody knew about, and there was just something else about him that made the shorter one wonder if he was really with them. The short one was the leader, the one with the plan he considered to be so sophisticated, so intelligent, that he never dared expose all of it to his comrades. The big one, the football player, he was the brawn, the one the short man considered to have little brains and too much strength. He was the aggressor, and proved to be rather useful at times.

But right now, it didn't matter who played what role; the entire focus of their meeting would be figuring out just how to correct the mistake the 'leader' had made. It had been a simple task, in and out, get what he always took, looking around for a few minutes, and then leaving.

But he smelt the cologne in the room, the scent on the bed, and he let his rage overwhelm his senses. He had grabbed whatever he could, tearing the room apart, destroying what he wanted to destroy, staining things red with his fury. All he could see was red; her blood, her blood spilling and gushing out of her warm body as she screamed for mercy.

He would fix what he did wrong; he would fix everything and make her pay at the same time, and he would relish every second of it.

First, he needed to make sure that his comrades would stay loyal to him until the end, until her last breath left her body and his vengeance was finally achieved.

Then, he would have to silence them.

* * *

They walked into the apartment, the silence of the place rather comforting than deafening, easing the tension that has filled them throughout the entirety of the day.

"It's small, but cozy, you know," Yamato said as they removed their shoes and coats.

She wandered down the hallway that led to the bedrooms and living room beyond. Right away, to her left, she found the open kitchen, smaller than it ought to have been thanks to the table taking over the center of the room.

The colours were rather masculine, she noted, throughout the entire apartment. All tones, not an ounce of baby blue or pale pink, nothing that seemed dainty and girlish in hue or appearance. Everything screamed bachelor, from the black leather couch to the modern tables and chairs, the flat screen television, and the stainless steel fridge, stove, and modern cabinets.

Everything had been placed purposely, set up to not appear 'weak' or girlish, not for style, but simply for convenience. But, as she looked around, she noted that there was a slight style, a modern look to the place that wasn't necessarily artistic, like her duplex, but more or less clean and lovely.

He led her down the hallway, once their shoes were removed and jackets hung up, and she looked around the living room as he turned on a couple of lamps.

"I figure we should move the futon now, get it done and out of the way, and then we can grab something to eat. Sound good?"

He had gone into his cop-mode, or at least halfway there, since the words, although they sounded like a question, were borderline orders, and she felt instantly compelled to do what he said. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she nodded in compliance.

"Yeah; I might be too tired to move it later and just crash on the sofa."

So, she walked into his room, and paused to look around. It was like the rest of the apartment, modern and clean, almost abnormally clean for a bachelor's bedroom, and she wondered if they had some kind of cleaning lady come by.

The bed was off to one corner, a simple double bed that was covered in black and white sheets and comforters, two pillows adorning the head with their checkered covers. She wanted to giggle; checkered patterns were so masculine and childish at the same time.

The walls were a simple, plain gray, naked save for a single photograph of Taichi and Yamato receiving their badges. She assumed that it had been taken when they had been accepted as police officers.

The dresser was modern; a nice oak painted a plain brown, and the closet door was covered by a full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. She noted a small desk, adorned by a flat-screen computer, papers filed on the side, with a miniature filing cabinet tucked under the desk.

He opened the closet, revealing that it was bigger than she had originally expected it to be, and pulled out a collapsible futon, folded up and kept closed by two straps. He lifted it out effortlessly, and she kept objects out of the way for him as he carried it into the living, placing it at the floor of the couch. The coffee table was instantly put to the side, under the small picture window that allowed moonlight to filter into the room. Together, they unfolded it in silence, occasionally communicating to ensure that nothing was in the way.

It was rather relaxing, she realized as they gathered spare blankets and sheets from the closet by the entrance, located just next to the door of Taichi's bedroom. Taichi's room and Yamato's room were separated by the bathroom, which she discovered to be small but, again, modern.

For some reason, she was not tense while they moved around the room, setting up the bed, and then, together, looking through the kitchen for some light to eat for supper. She was not tense, she did not worry, and she spent most of her time actually letting out quiet breaths every time he neared her and their bodies practically touched.

But it was not stressful, there was no sudden flaming arousal like there had been before; it seemed that the events of the day had drained away all of hopes of arousal, and instead allowed them to feel totally and utterly comfortable with one another.

Almost as though they could do this every day, chatting lightly at the table while eating a small supper, before retiring to their beds for the day; it felt like they had done this before and like they could do it for ever.

Maybe they were in love…

She couldn't be so sure, she noted to herself as she bid him goodnight, watching him shut the door behind him and she listened to him move around his room, until his bed creaked and silence filled the apartment.

Taichi had not come back yet, but she figured that he would find some way to stay at the hospital overnight; he had a tendency to always bend the rules in his favour.

Sighing softly, she looked down at the futon, and then cursed loudly.

What in the world was she going to sleep in?

* * *

_She was back in the dusty, damp room, the air thick from humidity, hot and heavy, making her head pound against her ribs as both the heat and fear assaulted her senses._

_The recognized the room in seconds, seeing the broken chairs and tables, the glass shards of the broken windows littering the floors, making it shimmer as the dull daylight attempted to play. _

_She knew she was back in her nightmarish world of a forgotten reality, and she cursed herself, loudly and angrily, sending little motes of dust to flutter in the air as she punched the faded floorboards._

_Not now, please _Kami_ not now; it was the worst of times to be brought back into this world._

_This time, she sensed, there was something different, something frighteningly different from her previous nightmares._

_Standing up slowly, already sore from the oncoming battle, she brushed the dust off of her body, trying to remain calm as panic rose in her throat._

_There was no way out._

_There never was a way out._

_Her eyes darted around the room, still searching for some kind of escape, needing to find some way out of this hellhole before the demons were loosed on her and she would wake up, shaking, terrified, and screaming._

_There was something different … _

_It kept gnawing at the back of her mind, eating away at her as she began the age-old movements, rushing around the room, banging against the door for help, futile in her attempts to escape. She felt the fear clench at her heart anew as she looked out of the broken windows, finding safety miles below, where the cars were ants and the people were so small they were no longer visible._

_There was something different…_

_A loud gasp left her mouth as her eyes fell on the body lying under a broken table, half of the table resting on the bloodied legs of the motionless figure. _

_Panic gripped her throat, causing her lungs to immediately scream for the air they were lacking, and her legs moved involuntarily, pulling her towards the figure when she wanted to do the opposite. To turn and run as far as she could, get away from this nightmarish world where reality met imagination and tormented her years later. _

_Falling to her knees beside the figure and cry rose in her throat. _

_"Sora!"_

_She grabbed the lifeless woman, holding her close to her body, feeling the blood drying on the body. She was barely aware of the small bump of Sora's belly, distended from months of pregnancy, pressing against her own flat stomach that would never bear a child._

_Sheer, absolutely, heart-wrenching pain consumed her entire body, numbing her from everything except for the absolute despair that filled her and overflowed from her in hot, wet tears that gushed down her cheeks._

_She sobbed her name, over and over again; the name of someone who was once able to help pull her out of her nightmarish reveries and into the bright world that was her current reality. But now … now she would never escape. _

_Her escape was completely and utterly obliterated when Sora's heart stopped beating._

_She wanted to remind herself that it was just a dream, a fucked up nightmare that refused to leave her alone and constantly played on her fears. _

_But it felt too real._

_An anguished scream left her lips as she saw the stomach, swollen but lifeless, and she held the woman closer to her body, trying to get as close as she could, trying her hardest to use her warmth to revive the dead woman._

_"Pretty girl."_

_She choked on the panic, unable to breathe as she felt a large hand clamp onto her shoulder, yanking her roughly away from Sora's body._

_"Sora! Sora! Wake up! Help!"_

_The fight began again; she struggled to breach his grip, trying desperately to get as far away as possible. She threw chairs at the beast, screaming and struggling wildly to get out of his grip and stop the inevitable. She shrieked in pain as her arm snapped, a clean and painful break that made nausea rise in her throat and nearly caused her to vomit all over herself._

_She screamed, like she always did, when he tore her shirt open, but this time, for some reason, it didn't stop there. The knife he held slid easily through the lace of her bra, exposing her breasts to the suddenly cold air. Delight glimmered in the creature's eyes, for he was no man, but a creature consumed by mental decay and aggressive lust. _

_She moaned in pain when his fingers bit into her breasts, bruising her pale flesh, marring her skin, and darkness began to ebb from the back of her mind._

_This wasn't supposed to happen…_

_Wake up, wake up, wake up, please, please wake up…_

_She wasn't … the darkness flowed away, pulling her back into the dream with a vivid perception and violent need to scream and escape._

_But there was no escape…_

_There never was a way to escape the past…_

_The creature pressed the blade to her throat…_

The scream that came from her throat was bloodcurdling, filling the entire apartment, breaking the soothing silence that had once consumed the air. She scrambled with the sheets, throwing them off of her, needing to escape their clutching hands and groping fingers, screaming and sobbing, panting Sora's name as the image of the body filled her mind…

Escape … escape the hands … escape…

She felt him all over her, touching her, bruising her, groping her, and saw blue eyes staring down at her with a cold, calculating look …

Stop remembering… stop fucking remembering…

She managed to crawl to the bathroom, her heart hammering, her lungs shriveling, giving up on the fact that they could no longer get air, and she sobbed, louder and louder, nausea consuming her to the point that she feared that, with her next move, she would vomit everywhere.

She hugged the toilet, losing every bit of food that she had eaten in the day, vomiting, panting, sobbing, and remembering.

She didn't want to remember…

But this time, as the panic welled in her throat, as fear consumed her very being, Sora's hands were not there to soothe and ease her out of her nightmares and into the current reality. The cool cloth was not being pressed against her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had poured down her body as she slept, heated from the terror that filled her and the heat of the blankets covering her.

She was alone … terrifyingly alone…

"Mimi…?"

She was barely aware of her name being called, barely aware of the warm, masculine arms that embraced her shuddering, convulsing body as the nausea slowly eased away. She felt back into the embrace, holding onto the arms for dear life, digging her nails into the tanned flesh as she fought to let him swallow her whole, to take her into his soul and never let her see any kind of pain ever again.

"Did you have a nightmare about Sora?"

Her nod was the partial truth; Sora had been part of the dream, but she couldn't let him know … she would never let him know about what haunted her, what tortured her every night she lay asleep in the darkness … she couldn't…

So they sat there in the bathroom, his arms twined around her body, thinking that she had had a nightmare about the day's incidents, when, in fact, the incidents in her dream had occurred a few years ago, miles from where they were located, in a completely different world altogether.

But right now, she didn't want to dwell on the half-lie; she didn't want to think about what had happened. She wanted to let herself be lulled back into a dreamless sleep, relaxed and secure in his arms.

Never, not once, not even with Sora, had her racing heart slowed down so quickly or her breath had returned with such ease. Never in her life had she felt so totally at ease in someone's arms.

Until now … until she was in his arms…

She could feel his love flowing from his body into hers, was dimly aware of his heart beating in time to hers, finding the sound of his breathing soothing, and she found that she never wanted him to let her go.

It was perfect.

It was … love.

"I love you…"

The words had left her mouth before she had even considered them; she was too dazed to think of anything, too overwhelmed by exhaustion that she didn't even acknowledge the severity of them, the impact that they had had on him, the way his eyes widened with shock, and then half-closed with gentleness as he looked down at her form.

There, she admitted it, she loved him, and she would think about the consequences in the morning, when the light of day would truly illuminate her feelings for this man.

For the man she loved.

* * *

It was different now, he realized, so terrifyingly different. He'd watched her fall asleep in his arms, and, carefully, he carried her to his bed. He had feared that if he left alone for more than a minute, she would wake up screaming and the entire scenario would repeat itself.

So he spent the night holding her, eventually falling asleep with his arms wrapped around her, to wake up well before her. He left the bedroom door open as he exited and promptly called her boss to let him know that she would be unable to come in that day.

All the while he thought about what she had murmured to him the night before.

He tried to reason with himself, telling himself that she had been half-asleep by the time the words had come out; that she had been so mentally fucked up at that point that she wouldn't even remember what she had said.

But somehow, he knew that she would remember and he knew that when she woke up, she would remember, with detail, that he had held her as she sobbed, that he had stroked her hair, and that she had proclaimed her love for him in the quietest, softest voice.

He didn't know what to do; he knew that he loved her, but would he dare say it back to her? What would she do? Would she accept his love with glee? Or would she reject him, making excuses for her outburst that night, trying to make it seem like she had never loved him?

But now he knew; he knew that she loved him, and he knew that he loved her.

He fought the urge to punch the nearest wall in frustration. How the hell was he supposed to react to that? How the hell was he supposed to know that she had been aware enough to know who she had been speaking to? How was he supposed to know anything when there were too many 'what if's?

He was now at a point in his life where he hated anything and everything to do with women and how they seemed to enjoy complicating the fuck out of everything he thought he once knew.

The telltale rustle of movement from his room signaled to him that she was rousing from her sleep, and she appeared at the doorway a second later, clad only in a t-shirt she had borrowed from him and her lacy, little underwear she had been forced to sleep in.

He grinned despite the seriousness of the situation; it had been rather difficult to sleep with her lying next to him, braless and wearing the lacey scrap that barely covered anything. He had to admit, he had suffered from a raging erection from the moment they had laid down together and her shirt rode up.

_Kami_, it had been on difficult night, trying to sleep with her tight, little rump pressed against his crotch.

It had grown even worse when she had rolled over, splayed her breasts across his chest, and had managed to drape a leg over his. Just knowing that her moist, tight center was mere inches away from his erection had not helped at all.

While he would normally thank _Kami_ for cold showers, he knew that now that she was up, awake and aware of her surroundings, and that she was currently looking at him warily, he would have to face the truth of last night.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Keep it light, comfortable, an easy topic, just focusing on how she physically felt compared to her emotional state of mind. If she felt sick, uneasy, upset, anything that seemed negative in his mind, he would not go on to ask about the dream, and then, if she dared answer his question, he might ask her about what she said.

He had it all planned out.

He liked plans.

Damn it, he cursed with realization, he was slowly becoming like her.

But still, how in the world could his plan fail?

She made her way slowly over to the futon, where she produced her black slacks out of midair, and began to tug them on. She purposely kept her face to him, not wanting him to see her shake and wiggle her butt as she attempted to yank them on without pulling up her borrowed t-shirt.

"Alright, a bit refreshed, to be honest." She glanced at the clock and felt a small blush rise to her cheeks. "I've never slept in so late."

This cued him to become severe, but in a joking way, so he crossed his arms, arched a brow, and frowned at her. In a way, he was trying to appear silly, but, deep down; he really wanted to be cross.

"You're telling me that you've never slept in past 8 o'clock in the morning?"

"Nope. Most of the time, I wake up at 6." She succeeded in getting on her pants without flashing him, yes!

"Not even on your days off or on vacation?"

She made her way over to the small island in the kitchen, sitting down on a stool and facing him. "Vacations do not exist for me, and my days off are always spent doing work, anyways, so, no, I never sleep in past 8 o'clock. And, no," she added when she saw the question in his eyes, "I do not take days off for when I'm sick. Besides, I never get sick." Automatically, she knocked on the wooden stool beneath her.

The coffee machine dinged, the automatic timer having set it off promptly at 7:45, and he basked in the aroma of the rich, dark beverage. He loved coffee, which was very American of him, even though he did not have an American gene in his body.

Pouring himself a cup, he offered her some, which she politely turned down, and settled against the counter.

"So, care to indulge a man?"

He was going to the second kill; the dream. Somehow, he had known that it had not just been about Sora; nobody would ever react in such a way to a dream like she had claimed she'd had. It had been about something else, and that something else gnawed at the back of his mind, making him nervous and anxious about her.

_Please, Kami-sama, don't let me find out that she's been raped or was abused as a child. _

He didn't pray for himself, he could care less if it meant more work for him in helping her deal with her past, but he could not stand knowing that these criminals had existed at one point in time and were never caught.

That was why he had become a cop; one of those criminals had decided to go after his mother, and he wanted to make sure that no other criminal like that would ever dare to exist.

He had to pull himself out of the horrid thoughts, the terrifying images that had been suddenly unleashed on his mind. Instead, he forced himself to think about the task at hand, to try and get her to discuss her dream, to have her tell him everything there was about her.

He felt like he should know more … he wanted to know more.

She arched a brow at his question, having not noticed the sudden internal war raging in his mind, noting only the way he had briefly tensed and relaxed once more, only to grow tense a second time.

He was nervous.

About what?

"Go ahead; I suppose that it can't hurt."

He sighed softly and refrained from closing his eyes as he briefly pondered on how he should ask the question.

"What was your nightmare about, last night?"

He blurted it out, without even taking into consideration her thoughts on the subject; he had just let it come out of his mouth. He mentally smacked himself.

The words hung in the thick silence that followed, her body instantly tensing as a few, fortunately dim and brief, memories of last night came into her mind.

So, he had seen through her charade; he had noticed that she had lied to him, and now he wanted to know the truth.

She only prayed that her voice had been quiet enough last night when she had uttered the only true phrase in that instance.

Yes, she had been fully aware of what she had said, and had almost instantly regretted it. He was the one so adamant on establishing a relationship between them, he was the one who kept chasing after her, he was the one who kept kissing her…so, how could it possibly make sense that she was the one who said the word' love' first?

She didn't understand it; things had gone from simple and easy to complicated and confusing within a period of seven hours, with Sora's injury and pregnancy, to her nightmare and the admission that, deep down inside of her, she loved him.

She should have blamed it on the stress, because right now, she would not believe any kind of excuse she was trying to form in her mind. All she could do was think, '_I love him, I do love him, but why did I tell him that?'_

She wanted to pound her fists into the counter, to close her eyes and count to infinity and wait for everything to just pass over and go away. But she knew that life didn't work like that; beating up a poor, defenseless, wooden surface wouldn't take the words away, and pretending that it had never happened wouldn't erase what had actually taken place.

She was being forced to deal with it and that is what she hated most of all. She hated being constantly reminded of any single fault in her, she hated knowing she had exploited a part of herself, the very part she had tried to seal away a few years ago when it had been savagely ravaged and nearly obliterated. She hated herself for falling back in love so easily, and hated, most of all, that a part of her was constantly reminding her that it was different, and that, maybe, just maybe, this time it was real love.

Fuck it.

She would tell him her dream, her past, and she would see if he loved her then. She would find out, for sure, if he could love someone as stupid as her.

She hated reliving the past, hated every detail of those 6 days, and hated being reminded, every time she saw a decrepit building or broken furniture, of every hour she hoped she would die.

But, for the man she loved – there was that damn word again –, she would relive it, and tell him what had happened. Then, he could judge her, he would throw her out of his home and life, telling her that she had been stupid and clueless, and she would never see his eyes glow with love for her, ever again.

"Can I have a glass of water?" She needed something to hold on to, and knew that she would need something to moisten her throat, which she knew would dry up and tighten from the memories.

It seemed to take him no time to pull out a large glass, fill it, add ice, and place it before her, leaning once more on the counter, arms crossed, patiently watching and waiting.

She took a slow sip, closed her eyes for a moment, before reopening them.

"All right … I'll tell you, but not only single word of what I will tell you is to be told to anyone else." Her hands began to shake as he nodded. "It's funny, because Sora doesn't even know what I'm going to tell you. It's kind of weird, eh?" Her laughed was dry and painful, her smile forced, not reaching the eyes that had darkened with memories.

"Okay … about three years ago, when I was in my last year at school," he arched a brow in question, and she added, "I was bumped ahead two grades." He nodded, and she continued.

"Anyways, I was in my graduating year, top honors in psychology, and the school decided to send some of the top students to a special, international psychology conference in New York. Not to sound arrogant, but, well, obviously it was me and a few others, including my coworker, Izumi.

"We were supposed to go for about two weeks, sit through different conferences, ask questions, and go to a special seminar set up for all students and doctors participating in the conference. It was going pretty well, and, at the end of the first week, we had a night and the next morning to ourselves. Those of us who could, whoever was 21, decided to go out, again, myself included. So, we went out, and I met this guy. I found out that he was a bar owner, I told him about myself, and we hit it off right away, hung out for the night, and exchanged numbers. I never told him that I was there only for another week.

"We didn't know, but, on Monday, the man in charge of the conference headed a seminar we went to. In the seminar, he told us that we had been chosen to participate in an investigation, almost like the one I'm helping you do now. He said that the top student from each school was chosen, and then, the top three would be taken to work with the police for the next three weeks. He then admitted that he was the chief of police in New York.

"It was a huge shock, apparently there was a huge murder going on, and he, in order to try and keep the FBI out as much as possible, had promised to have a psychological profile done by the end of the month. However, their psychologists, therapists, and so forth were having a difficult time trying to set one up or agree on one. Everybody had a different opinion about silly things, like the placement of the chairs, or how the woman's hair was set up. They had tried using therapists from other countries, such as Germany, Britain, Canada, and Japan, but everybody was using some sort of biased to influence their profile. So, they called in some fresh students, people who had not become arrogant from their job, those who went by the book, in to come and help. It was rather odd, something really unusual, and I was quite surprised that the chief had managed to pull such a stunt, but, you know, when people are desperate, they're willing to try anything.

"I was chosen, and to be honest, at that time I was more excited that I could spend more time with the guy I met rather than being part of a high profile investigation at 21. We met up a few times, his name was Michael, by the way, and then he admitted that he was an undercover cop posing as a bar owner. So, we actually found ourselves discussing the investigation. Eventually, the investigation was going on pretty well, and we were doing a good at setting up a decent profile. It was actually going on great; the other two, some guy from Canada and another guy from Poland, really knew their stuff, and the police were eventually asking us to go to crime scenes, after the bodies were removed.

"Well, about the last two weeks I was there, they started getting mail at the station. Apparently somebody had mentioned to the killer, or to someone who knew the killer, that we were involved in the case, and the killer was threatening to kidnap us and kill us." She took a sip of her water, having completed the 'boring' part of her history, preparing herself for what she would say next.

"A couple days later, some guy broke into my hotel room and kidnapped me."

She paused, waiting for his reaction, watching as Yamato's face paled and his grip tightened on his coffee mug. His eyes had hardened, darkening in the light, and she noted the way his muscles had tensed, stretching the shirt he wore.

He wasn't happy, she noted, he was not happy at all.

Neither was she, she admitted, noting the way her heart rate had begun to slowly increase while her lungs began to lack air and her palms grew sweatier while her throat dryer.

"I woke up in some old building, it was very dusty and some of the windows were broken. I would've escaped through the windows if I hadn't been ten floors high, at least. It was … eerie." She paused, taking another sip of water, fighting back the images that threatened to flood her mind, pushing away all emotions and feelings that she had become victim to during her 'stay.'

"It was obvious that the building hadn't been used in years, at the very least, and a lot of things were broken." She had to keep it light, keep the description to a minimum, because that way, she wouldn't be forced to remember everything. "I think that they had tranquilized me in my sleep because I felt really groggy and it was midday when I woke up. The first day was … the worst." She swallowed thickly. "The first and the last days … they were definitely the worst."

Lowering her head, she didn't want to continue, she didn't want to tell this man, this stranger, about what had happened to her during those six days. She didn't know if she could continue, if she could describe every vividly terrifying detail to him. It hurt so much just to think about those days; her pulse was already racing, and she felt beads of sweat forming above her brow.

She swallowed more water, fighting back the panic that was beginning to slowly rise in her. She had to push it down; she couldn't bear to let him see her break down again.

Her eyes met his and she saw the pain within him, the curiosity laced with agony and anger. She wondered if he was blaming her or himself. But it was that pain, that raw emotion in his gaze, that made her continue, and slowly made her realize that maybe, just maybe, he really did love her.

"I don't know how long I was there before the … thing came." Her exhale was shaky, her hands twitching unconsciously around the cup, but her voice remained strong. "I call him a thing because he was just … unnaturally big. I knew that he wasn't the murderer; he was too childish, too compulsive, and far too aggressive. The murderer had probably used him, and I later found out that he had been injected with PCP and various other drugs. I also found out that he was severely mentally challenged." She rubbed her face with her hands, her palms coming back moist from the sweat dotting her skin.

But she continued…

"He just … attacked me. He wasn't even human anymore, just violent and aggressive. He broke my arm real badly, and would probably have raped me if the murderer, a man I never got a chance to see until the last day, hadn't stopped him each time."

She choked back a sob and he jerked forward, a hand reaching out as though to touch and comfort her. She wanted to fall into his arms, to forget this stupid story, to forget the damn past, and just be comforted, but she knew that it wouldn't completely obliterate the memories she was tormented with each night. She had to tell him.

But she let him come closer, let him lean on the island, and enjoyed the feel of his hand on hers. His thumb rubbed the top of her hand and she felt comforted, secure, and loved.

It was strange but beautiful.

"Each day was like that, the man, thing, _Kami-sama_, calling him a 'thing' is horrid, isn't it?" She let out a weak laugh. "He … he would come back, and each day, he would hurt me more, try to touch me in other places, and every day I would fight back. I didn't want to give in; I didn't want to be like the other women who simply lay there while they are raped. I wanted to fight; I couldn't let him win, and I think that the only reason he never did rape me was because I did fight back."

His hand tightened around hers and she let a few tears fall free. When she spoke again, her voice was growing hoarse and choked, her throat clenching at the memories.

"On the last day, he got particularly violent and broke my arm even more, to the point where the bone jutted out. It was so painful I almost passed out, but I didn't, and he kept attacking me." She paused, more tears running down her cheeks, her voice breaking at every third word with a choked sob. "I thought that he would finally rape me, that he would rape me and kill me like all of the others. I was lucky … the cops found me before he got to rape me. The cops had finally pinpointed our location and managed to subdue the man before he really got me.

"That's when I saw who the murderer was … who the man that had kidnapped me and watched me get beat every day was … _Kami_-_sama_, I had been so damn foolish. Damn it, how could I have believed him when he had told me, those weeks ago, that he was an undercover cop posing at a bar owner? I let him woo me and gave him everything about me. I had told him everything, where I was staying, with who, for how long, everything someone needs to know in order to kidnap somebody.

"Damn it, I was so damn foolish. It was that bastard, Michael. He was the last thing I saw before I passed out and spent a week in a coma. He later told the police that he had been saving me for himself, that he would rape me. Apparently, the psychological profile my friends and I had set up had fit him perfectly.

"How could I have not noticed that it was him?" She was sobbing at this point, and he had come around, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, letting her fall back into his embrace. "He was right in front of me, telling me all of these lies, and he fit my damn profile, and I had never noticed. He … he wanted to rape me … to fucking rape me … and I … I thought I loved him …"

His grip tightened around her, pressing her closer to his warmth, wanting to hold her in his arms forever until her sobbing stopped and she smiled once again. He knew, with despair, that his embrace would never be able to remove the memories, that they would always be there, but he wanted to comfort her, to let her now she was safe, even if it was only for a few minutes.

"The worst part … is he looks just like you, Yamato-san … he looks just like you."

His heart clenched so tight that it made him breathless and his stomach twist with agony. So, every time she looked at his face, she saw a murderer, a horrible man that had wanted to destroy her. _Kami-sama_, that hurt more than her just wanting to be friends with him.

He slowly forced her to turn around and he squatted in front of her, lifting his head and tilting hers slowly so that they could make eye-contact. His thumb gently brushed away a tear, and, as he looked into her eyes, he knew that he had to let her know that he would never, ever, hurt her.

"Mimi-san, that … 'man' may have looked like me, but I promise you, that we are nothing alike. I would rather die than even think about hurting you, and if I ever do hurt you, I promise to do everything I can to fix it and make you smile again. Mimi-san, I didn't think I would ever say this to anybody, but, I love you. It's not an infatuation, it is not some kind of platonic love or anything of the sorts, I truly and honestly love you from the bottom of my heart." He smiled tenderly at her. "I don't know why we're doing this now, why we're saying such things at this weird time, maybe it's because of everything that happened, maybe it's because I thought that I might have lost you yesterday … but, it just feels right. I know that we barely know each other, but I do know that I love you with my very being."

He leaned forward, kissing away the tears, before resting his forehead against hers. "I promise, I will never, ever hurt you, and I will never, ever let anyone else hurt you, ever again. I promise you that because I love you, and I can't keep it a secret anymore. I'm not him, Mimi-san, and you are not foolish. You were young, inexperienced, but you are not foolish." His smiled broadened just a touch. "You are beautiful, smart, and amazing, and I love every last bit of you."

Her lips quivered, her eyes widening with shock as he professed his love for her. Never in her life had anyone said such beautiful words to her, or, if they had, never had they held such true emotion in them.

She believed him, she believed him from the bottom of her heart and soul, and she felt herself falling into the tender blue ocean of his eyes. She never wanted him to let her go, never wanted him to step away from her and not come back. She wanted to lie in his arms for the rest of eternity, to feel his warmth, his kindness, and his love for until she died of old age.

She loved him too, and this time, she was fully aware of her surroundings and how she felt.

"Yamato-kun," his heart leapt as she spoke his name in a more intimate fashion, "I love you too." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss as the tears poured down her cheeks.

She had been a fool; how could she have ever thought that this man would never love her?

She pulled away from the kiss and despite the innocence, the lack of sensuality in it, she panted softly and her heart was racing.

"Yamato-kun, make love to me, not like we did in the shower, but … different … and on a bed, preferably."

He laughed, his eyes glowing with joy as he picked her up in his arms. He had to admit that the whole moment between them had been like a romance movie, a film designed for teenagers that still lived in their little fantasy world of romance and love. But, while it was a clichéd moment for them, he felt that, perhaps, she had needed the clichéd moment; she needed to cry and be held, to feel like a true woman for one, instead of someone on the side, holding her emotions in check as she listened to others break down.

Of course, it just had to add to the cliché that she had been a victim of a serious crime in the past, but he accepted that cliché, he could care less if their relationship had become a clichéd relationship, or if she seemed like some Mary Sue character, he loved her and that's all that mattered.

He made his way to his bedroom, slowly lowering her on the bed, and he lay down beside her, gently brushing her hair back from her face, wanting to see the pale cheeks and amber eyes. Her lips were full and rosy, and he lowered his mouth to hers in a tender kiss, their breaths mingling as their lips parted, their tongues twining and making love to one another.

His hands traced her body, gently taking his time to feel every curve, every muscle, and every little thing that made up her physical form. In time, he would be able to memorize her thoughts and curiosities; he would be able to know everything she thought of and every little word that came into her mind.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

Her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers touched her bare flesh, igniting the flames of desire that had laid dormant for so long. He brushed along her thigh, resting on the outside of it as she arched upwards against him, wordlessly urging him to continue or she would become restless with need.

He wanted to be gentle, to take his time, to do everything he could to make it different from their last time together. Last time, they had been rough and needy, pounding and aggressive in their sex, but this time, he wanted to know everything about her, to know every little thing that made her tick.

His lips left her mouth, tracing butterfly kisses all over her face, tracing her brows, her cheekbones, before resting along her jaw to trail down the pale column of her throat. His hand stayed on her thigh, thumb rubbing the skin softly as his other arm supported himself.

Her fingers trailed down his back, nails scratching softly through his shirt as he slowly built up the passion, taking his time adding fuel to the flames. A part of her wanted him to hurry up and take her, but the rest of her wanted him to take his time, to indulge in him as much as he was indulging in her.

She needed him, needed this moment of tenderness with him, and she would kill anything that would try and stop this moment from occurring.

He lifted her shirt, having managed to achieve a rosy blush on her cheeks, feeling her chest beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace while her pulse sped up against his lips.

His fingers trailed along her bare stomach in soft, butterfly touches, teasing and barely touching her skin, almost like a breath or a wind's whisper against her heating flesh. She helped him pull her shirt off and she leaned forward, moving to take his off.

His hand gripped hers, clasping both of her wrists and gently pulled her hands away from him.

"No, Mimi-chan, this is for you."

She went limp in his arms, succumbing to his sensually dark voice and the beautiful look in his eyes.

He loved her.

He really, really, loved her.

His lips trailed down her collarbone, still in those sweet, breathy kisses that made her squirm in delight, and they traced the upper curve of her left breast, slowly kissing every part of the mound, completely ignoring the peak at the center.

She arched upwards, her hands gripping his back tightly, nails digging through his shirt as his lips found her nipple, teasing the peak with his lips, tongue, and teeth until she let out a soft cry of pleasure. Then, he moved over to play with the other breast, repeating the same process of touching only the flesh before reaching that small, sensitized point at the center of her breast.

"Yamato-kun," she gasped softly, her voice breathy with pleasure.

He looked up at her, watching her as she threw her head back with ecstasy, her lips parted, eyes closed with arousal. A low growl escaped from the back of his throat and he pushed down the aggressive sexual predator that had begun to rise within him.

Instead, he kissed a pattern down her stomach, occasionally darting out his tongue in teasing flicks that made her twitch and moan for more. He reached the edge of her underwear and slowly pulled it down, tossing it away to land somewhere in his room.

Her legs instantly opened for him and he moaned at the sight of her wet and ready center, exposed and open to him, ready for him to take and please.

Her eyes opened slowly, the colour of dark amber that made another groan leave his mouth, and she smiled softly at him.

"Yamato-kun, please …"

He grinned up at her before covering her body with his, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss that was rougher than the others, making her body shiver with delight and gooseflesh to rise over her exposed skin. Her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him closer to her, needing to feel his warmth all over her, deep inside of her, heating her to her very soul.

"I need you, Yamato-kun, I need you," she moaned as his lips moved to nibble on her earlobe.

His hand trialed down her body, touching her, memorizing every part of her, until he came to the curve of her hip, where he stopped as she arched up at his touch. He let his hand rest there, waiting patiently, enjoying the feel of her naked body against his clothed one, knowing that if he touched her sweet core, he would not be able to last much longer.

"Yamato-kun!"

He slid a finger into her moist center, groaning aloud at the feel of her muscles tightening around his digit. He wanted to say something, but he feared that it might be too … erotic for their tender moment. He wanted to be dominant, to pound inside of her, but, at the same time, he just wanted to feel her, to ease into her and take his time. Never before had he ever wanted to do that with a woman; normally he would go straight to sex, but with Mimi, it was different.

He didn't need to play the role of a Dom to be painfully aroused.

He just needed to touch her, to take in her scent, to see her, to just think about her…

He slid a second digit into her depths and she cried out, her muscles twitching around his fingers.

"Yamato-kun, please …"

He began to move them, taking his sweet time sliding them in and out of her body, enjoying the feel of her twist and turn beneath him, making soft, mewling sounds of pleasure as her eyes closed and lips parted with arousal. He felt her body tighten, preparing itself for the oncoming release, and as he felt her clench rhythmically around him, he kissed her hotly and passionately, swallowing her moans.

Without removing his fingers, he slid down her body, before replacing them with his mouth. There, he kissed her pussy, sliding his tongue over the petals, thrusting it within her before sucking the sensitive pearl that made her cry out his name.

Her hands made their way to his head, her fingers threading through his hair as her hips slowly moved against his torturous lips. Her heart pounded and she called out his name as he slowly brought her to an orgasm again and again, taking his sweet time.

"Yamato-kun, _onegai_, please, I don't think I can last much longer."

He pulled away from her, licking his lips, loving the taste of her sweet nectar on his tongue. He slowly nodded his head and proceeded to remove his pants.

"Do you always walk around commando?"

The question startled him and confused him. He arched a brow in her direction, having paused halfway back onto the bed after tossing his pants aside.

"No, not really, but you are aware that I _was_ in my pajamas, right?"

He said the words while crawling back onto her body, covering her nude form with his, placing soft kisses along her throat up to her jaw.

"Well yes, but…"

"Hush, you, and enjoy the moment." He pressed his lips to hers, silencing her mid-sentence.

Her body grew limp once more and her arms wrapped around him. He gently nudged her legs open, settling himself between her thighs.

Lifting himself up, he looked down into her eyes, her beautiful, breathtaking, amber eyes that he loved so much, and whispered, "I love you, Mimi-chan."

Her hand reached up, cupping his cheek, as she replied, "I love you too, Yamato-kun."

Her hands fell to his chest as he thrust into her, causing her nails to dig into his skin at the sudden, welcomed intrusion. She cried out, throwing her head back, feeling full for the second time in her life. He filled her, stretched her, and she loved every bit of it. She loved the feel of him deep inside of her, touching every part of her body at once.

His hips began a slow, torturous pace, moving in and out in a very slow rhythm that took its time building up the sexual tension. His lips met hers for passionate kiss after passionate kiss, the two of them barely parting to take in air before kissing once more. Her nails dug into his back as he brought her to the first crest, his hands gently gripping her hips to move deeper within her.

Tendrils of pleasure unwound within her, touching every part of her body, recognizing and playing with every single pleasure point on her, making her cry out with passion.

He wanted, so badly, to just take her, hard and fast, but he kept himself in check. The feel of her wet and tight around him was almost too much to bear, but he kept the tempo slow, reveling in the feel of her, time and time again, tightening and crying out as he brought her one orgasm after another.

It felt so intimate, to new, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer. The feel of her, twisting and arching under him, moaning his name against his lips, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist; it all made him want to come.

Her lips found his throat, biting and licking as their tempo sped up; sweat glistening on their nude forms as he thrust in and out of her, moving a little rougher with each passing second.

"Yamato-kun, come for me … please, come in me."

Her voice was a sensual whisper in his ear and, as she bit his earlobe, he growled from deep within his chest.

"Mimi-chan, oh _Kami_, Mimi-chan," he choked, rising up to thrust harder and faster.

He listened as she screamed with pleasure, coming around his cock, and he let her waves of ecstasy consume him and take him into the ocean. He buried himself deep within her, calling out her name as he came in her pussy, filling her.

It was some time before they came to the surface, rising out of the ocean and stepping into the cool air of reality. He had slid out of her and fallen down beside her. Now, aware of everything, he pulled her cooling body up against his, cradling her in his arms as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Yamato-kun?"

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before responding. "Yes, Mimi-chan?"

She smiled up at him. "That was the best sex of my life."

He fell on his back and laughed, before rolling over and placing kisses all over her face.

"Same here, Mimi-chan."

"Are you always going to be saying my name at the end of every sentence?"

"Maybe, Mimi-chan."

She wanted to punch him in the arm. "You're silly."

He kissed her throat, nibbling on the tender skin. "Yeah, but you love me, right?"

"Oh, come here." She pulled him up for a chaste kiss, whispering against his lips, "Of course I love you."

"Fucking finally."

Their heads turned in unison, facing the open doorway that framed a certain brunet who had, once again, caught them in the act. This time, however, Mimi let out a high shriek as she realized that they were naked and Taichi was watching them.

Burrowing against Yamato, trying her hardest to hide, Taichi and Yamato laughed aloud.

"Yagami Taichi, I'm going to kill you one of these days," she muttered in an attempt to sound threatening.

"Yeah, I'm _so_ scared." His reply was sarcastic but his lips were curled into a smile. "So, you guys love each other now?"

Mimi nodded her head against Yamato's chest, while Yamato simply grinned in response. This resulted in a loud sigh from Taichi, who threw his arms into the air, mimicking a sense of exasperation.

"It took the two of you long enough. You're so thickheaded, the two of you." He turned to leave. "Please, next time, close the door or something, 'cause I really didn't feel like seeing Yama-kun's naked ass."

A pillow hit him in the back of head just before he shut the door and Yamato's laughter followed him out.

It was good to hear Yamato laughing; he was truly happy.

**There we go. My longest chapter yet, and I hope that you guys enjoyed it. **

**I know that her story about America, the whole conference thing, sounds a little farfetched, but, well, this is my fantasy world, so there. But I also didn't want it to be even more farfetched where the New York Police Department called Japan, asking for their top student therapist.**

**I guess my edited idea of the conference sounds a bit more realistic than my original idea. **

**So yeah, we know what happened to Mimi, and now her and Matt have finally said those three cute words. **

**Now please review and read on, so that I may post the next chapter and will find out what happens next, 'cause I know I can't wait to find out what happens next.**

**I ask: please, if you see any errors I missed, please feel free to mention them to me in your review. I always thank those who find mistakes and try to correct them immediately.**

**My rule: Again, my rule still stands, 3 reviews and you will get the next chapter for sure. Less than three, well, you'll have to wait. So please, it's nice when we get reviews. It let's the writer know what the reader wants and so forth.**

**Thanks.**

**Ja ne!**


	21. Mine

**Note to readers: I am making for up being so late in updating by giving, yet again, another lovely lemon at a random point in the chapter. Again, I will not be stating when this lemon begins, as it ruins the flow of the story, so just close your eyes and ears and scream at the top of your lungs if you find it, dislike it, and want to skip it.**

**To those who want to read the lemony goodness, please feel free to smile, jump up and down, and do a variety of other things that will boost my ego. **

**Please, please, please enjoy, and, believe it or not, this story will be coming to a close sometime soon. Which sucks. But still; it can't go on forever.**

**Chapter 21**

**Mine**

"So, Sora, are you guys planning on keeping the baby?"

Sora smiled softly at her friend currently occupying the chair by her bed. She wasn't as pale as before, and already some of her bruises were starting to disappear. "Certainly," she replied, moving a hand to rest on her abdomen covered by the stark, white sheets. "We've been together for a few years now; it was only a matter of time that one of four things happened."

"Four things?" Mimi tilted her head to the side, a tad confused by Sora's reply.

"Well, I think it's four things, I can't really count right now from the pain pills they're giving me." Sora laughed, and Mimi noticed that it was growing stronger each passing day.

It had been five days since the incident and every day, Mimi had gone to the hospital with Yamato after he had finished work. Somehow, being a cop allowed Yamato to visit her after the visitation hours were over, which was fine in Mimi's opinion. She hated being at the hospital while other people were visiting; she couldn't stand seeing their gaunt faces, the look of despair in their eyes as they spoke with their loved ones for, possibly, the last time.

"So, what are those four things?" Mimi moved forward, adjusting Sora's pillow gently when the brunette gestured for it.

"Okay, here's the list. 1) Taichi and I would move in together, which obviously never happened because I'm still living with you and he's still living with Yamato-san. 2) Taichi proposes to me on some beautiful date in the moonlight, alone on a beach or something." Mimi snorted. "3) Taichi and I decide to raise a family, meaning have a baby, in or out of wedlock. In all honesty, it doesn't matter if the baby is born while we're married or not. We just want the child raised in a happy, comfortable, secure environment and be loved."

"So, what's the fourth thing?"

Sora grinned. "I forgot."

Mimi would have normally lightly tapped her friend on the arm, but she knew that the girl was still injured and she didn't want to risk hurting her friend even more. So, instead, she laughed aloud, smiling broadly.

"Do you think Taichi's going to propose?" This came from Sora, who almost had a sound of worry in her voice.

Mimi's still turned tender and soft at her friend's voice. "Of course he will. You guys have been together since high school, and he loves you very much. I think that he would be here today if the Commander hadn't forced him to go back to work. You should have seen his face when he came back from the first day here. He was so happy that you were pregnant. That was, of course, after he fainted."

"Taichi fainted? You never told me that he fainted?" The worried tone in her voice gave way to laughter.

"Of course he fainted. The poor guy had had such a shock. One minute, he thinks you're dead, the next, you're pregnant, alive and well. It was pretty funny, actually, because he hit the floor real hard." Laughter bubbled up their throats and filled the room. It was hard to imagine Yagami Taichi, tough Detective, assistant to even tougher Ishida Yamato, fainting because of a baby.

"He won't be allowed in the birthing room, then, because I'm sure he'll either puke or pass out," Sora choked out moments later as they attempted to regain their breath.

This prompted Mimi to ask a question she'd been wanting to ask since the day of the attack. "Sora-chan… will I be allowed to be with you, when you have the baby?"

Sora's hand held Mimi's, her thumb rubbing the back of it tenderly. "Of course; I was actually planning on making you the child's godmother."

"You're shitting me."

Sora laughed softly. "I shit you not, Mimi-chan. You practically saved my life that day, and I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come home. I'm so grateful for that. Not to mention, we've been friends since forever; I'm pretty sure that the baby will call you Auntie Mimi or something sickeningly sweet."

Another snort left Mimi. "You're such a darling sometimes, you know that, right?"

"I know."

"So, when is the baby due?"

"Next summer, probably around July or August, and no, before you ask, I did not ask the sex of the child. To be honest, I really don't want to know; I want it to be a surprise."

They smiled softly to themselves, and Mimi brushed a few strands of hair away from Sora's face. She, deep down, worried about what would happen with her if Sora and Taichi did decide to move in together. Where would she go? She knew that she made more than enough money to live in the duplex alone, but … she didn't like living alone.

She was being selfish, but she hated being alone. She didn't know if she would be able to sleep anymore, knowing that Sora would never be there to hold her when she woke up in a sweat and panic. She knew that Sora was her lifeline, that she depended on Sora to keep herself grounded, and she feared what might happen if Sora left her.

She couldn't be selfish; it wasn't fair to Sora or Taichi, or even their unborn child, to try and squeeze herself in between them. She would have to deal with it; she knew that she could.

Maybe she could try and move in with Yamato…

No; it was too early for that. They had barely been 'dating' for a week, so she couldn't dare try and say "Hey, Yamato-kun, can I move in with you?" Again, it wasn't fair.

She was strong; she would deal with it when it came down to it. For now, she smiled for Sora and her joy. She wouldn't be selfish; it wasn't fair to them. Besides, living alone couldn't kill her, could it?"

* * *

A week after the incident, Mimi was allowed back into her home. She had passionately refused to let Yamato live in with her; she hadn't wanted to be a burden. Besides, with Taichi so busy either with work or at the hospital, she knew that Yamato would have to tend to their apartment.

'_To be honest,'_ she thought as she twirled a pen around her fingers, '_I really don't want to be alone. But it's not fair to them…'_

She sat at work, having gone straight there from Yamato's house. She was glad that she could have her home back; it was annoying to have to go shopping for clothes for the week, especially when Yamato kept distracting the hell out of her. Damn man and his handsome smile and gorgeous eyes.

She was worried; she didn't know if she would be able to sleep in a cold bed this night. She had become so accustomed in the past week of falling asleep in Yamato's arms, and now, she would be returning to a cold and empty house, and sleeping in a cold and empty bed.

A part of her didn't even want to step into her bedroom, where she wondered if the carpet was still stained red like blood. But, she knew that she would have to. It was _her_ room after all, and it couldn't hurt to just sleep there. She just needed to sleep and dress there, and then she could hang out in any other part of the duplex save that room.

Sighing softly, she leaned back in her chair, trying to focus on her work instead of her current situation in life. Junpei was due to come in any minute now, so she had to organize herself, to compose herself and be prepared to discuss anything other than her life.

The door slowly opened and in stepped Junpei. He slowly walked into the room, and she was immediately consumed with worry. He was incessantly twisting his hands, almost as though he had a nervous tick, and his face had paled considerably since their last appointment.

As he neared, she could see that he had a few droplets of sweat forming on his brow, and her worry increased.

'_Act normal, act like you haven't noticed anything, and bring it up later,'_ she thought, pulling out her notepad, opening it to a new date.

"_Konnichi wa_, Junpei-san," she smiled up at him, "take a seat. How are you today?"

He sat down, his whole form consuming the entire seat. He really was large, she realized, and probably very strong. Again, she wanted to ask him about the usage of steroids as he had never answered her the last time. But for now, she would stick to the basics.

"I'm good, thank you." Even his voice seemed to hold a tone of nervousness; like he was hiding something or something had occurred or would occur that actually scared him.

"That's good." She looked down at her notepad, before looking back up at him. "First, I'd like to ask you if you feel that we have been progressing. Has anything happened, any kind of situation that made you angry, and you feel that, maybe, you didn't get _as_ angry?"

He shrugged slowly. "Well, yeah." Then he burst into a smile and the nervousness faded for a moment. "Yeah. The other day, at work, there was this really annoying guy at the supermarket. He was very rude and loud, and kept trying to push my buttons; I think that he was asking for a fight. I wanted to punch him so badly, but I didn't. It felt good, you know, just being able to stop myself from getting so angry."

She jotted a few brief notes down on the paper and smiled. "That's good, it shows that we've approved in your social aspect. Have you engaged in sexual intercourse since our first meeting?"

This is where the sweat formed on his brow and slid down his cheek. This was what worried her, and she could see through the lie when he said 'no.' But she let it go; she would deal with it later, because first she had to go through a few other areas.

"All right, but I'm not trying to say that you just go around, have sex with a random person, but I feel that we will only be able to see the full extent of the sessions when you have sex. You said that you do not like being too aggressive in bed or in sexual situations, so I think that, although in social situations you prove to hold back your aggression, the big test will be when you have sex."

He nodded slowly, taking in her words with understanding.

Here was the slightly shaky territory; the mention of drugs. She cautiously crossed her legs, not wanting to flash him, while also enjoying the feel of the garters on her skin.

"Junpei-san, I know that we've mentioned this before, but again, I must ask if you've considered taking any drugs."

He stiffened at her words and she knew that she had, again, hit a sore spot. She knew, ahead of time, that he would refuse and she sighed softly as he profusely said the word, over and over again. It bothered her that he seemed to refuse any other kind of help with calming his anger, but, she also had other alternatives.

"All right, I understand that you have your reasons for not wanting to take drugs." She took a sip of her water. "I also have a few other alternatives that you might want to try."

He sat straighter, listening to her every word, almost as though he was praying that she could find some way or form to remove his unnatural amount of aggression.

"First, I would suggest that you trying taking yoga classes or any other kind of activity that helps calm the body. I suggest you try yoga, tai chi, or even Pilates; all of those classes involve being relaxed, and, at the same time, could help improve your health. But, we're looking more for something that's relaxing."

He nodded slowly. "Sounds good but … isn't that more girly? I mean, a lot of girls go and do that shit, and it's really not-manly of me to do it. I mean, I have to make sure I am manly."

She wanted to laugh at his male arrogance. Men were sometimes so conceited and so focused on the fact that, if they had a penis, they were badass. Instead, she had to try and find a way to get him to do _something_ relaxing, and so far, yoga was his best bet since he refused to take calming drugs.

"If you want, you can go buy yoga tapes or DVDs and do the stuff at home. That way, you don't ruin your masculinity by being in a room full of women, and, at the same time, you're in a calming environment, there's nothing to distract you, and yoga really helps calm your heartbeat. It also helps relieve stress if you work in a very stressful environment.

"Which leads to my next bit: do you smoke, drink, or work in a very stressful environment?"

He arched a brow, frowning up at her at her random question. He did understand the bit about the yoga and he mentioned quietly that he would try it out and see how it went. He mentally decided that he would tell the cashier that the tape was a gift for his girlfriend, sister, or mother, something that was remotely believable.

He wondered if he should lie about his lifestyle or if he should tell the truth. Maybe a half-life wouldn't hurt…

"I only smoke socially, like if I'm offered a cigarette in a social situation, and try not to drink because, well … you know that story." He sighed softly, wondering if he should tell her where he worked or if he should just try to keep it very bland, simple, and vague. Vagueness would work; vagueness would get him further than if he completely lied. "My work isn't very stressful, it can be physically demanding, but it is too stressful."

She chuckled softly. "I suppose that you're lucky if your work isn't too stressful. Most places these days are way too stressful."

She was going back to the edge, where she would try to balance and try to remain on the good side. She now knew that his work was physically demanding, and she would now have to ask him if he had ever even been tempted to try steroids. Hopefully, this time he would not reply with hostility.

"I know I've asked you this before, but I feel that I must ask again. Junpei-san, have you ever taken steroids or any other muscle enhancer? Again, I will not inform your employer of that, it will be kept strictly between the two of us, we have a doctor-patient agreement that I will never, ever break."

He stiffened once more, this time annoyance and nervousness flowed out his body at a rapid pace, so powerful that it seemed to fill the air and leave them in a very tense silence.

She actually feared that he might become violent and do what Iori had unexpectedly done last week. She sat back in her seat, sitting straighter, in a more prepared position than she had been last time. This time, she wouldn't let anyone sneak up on her; she would be prepared and she would be able to fight back and call for security.

Instead, she was surprised that he took several deep breaths and she could see him battle with himself in his eyes. She wondered what he was doing, wondering if he was considering his options, curious if he was going to lie, tell the truth, or avoid the topic once more.

If he avoided the topic, she would have to assume that he was taking steroids and it would make her wonder if he really was opposed to drugs.

"No."

She looked up, amazed that, this time, he had actually come up with an answer. But, she saw through the lie in the way his eyes dilated and the sweat had slid down his face in fast, moist rivulets. But she couldn't do it; she couldn't tell him that she knew that he was lying. Saying the truth was something he would have to come and do on his own.

She nodded slowly. "All right, thank you for your honesty."

Her phone rang loudly and she apologized and answered it. "Hello?"

"Tachikawa-san, I just wanted to let you know that your ride is here." It was Setsuna.

She frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. What in the world did Setsuna mean by 'her ride?' "My ride?" she asked, noting the way that Junpei was eagerly listening into the conversation.

"Yes, that policeman from a while ago, remember, the gorgeous blond? Him, he just showed up and says that he's your ride." She could practically see Setsuna drooling over Yamato.

"Oh, I see." She nodded even though no one could see her. "All right, tell him that I will be out shortly. I only have ten minutes left of my appointment."

"Good, thank you."

She hung up and turned to Junpei, smiling at him. "All right, so, let's finish this up. So, you find that using mental calming techniques have been working for you, correct?"

He nodded slowly, taking him time trying to understand what had just occurred a second ago. Her ride? Who could possibly be her 'ride'?

Did she have a boyfriend? No, that couldn't be possible; she didn't seem like the person to have a boyfriend, and he knew that she had a car of her own, so why would she need a ride? Things didn't make sense.

He fought the urge to grip his head, wondering non-stop if she had, somehow, gotten a boyfriend, and how the possibility of such ruined any chances he might have with her in the future.

But … he looked her over and examined her face. Her pale skin glowed with life and her eyes glimmered softly in the sunlight that filtered in through the windows. There were no bruises marring her skin, and he noticed that the bandage around her hand had disappeared, leaving a very faint scar on her palm. Even that scar had been disappearing, he noticed, probably growing fainter with each day.

She was happy, he noticed, but … he also noticed the worry in her eyes, and he worried in turn.

He would do anything to make her happy, to make her smile; she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and the first woman not to shy away from him in fear or repulsion.

He would protect her beauty, no matter the cost.

The meeting lasted only for a few more minutes, where they discussed his progress and set up another date for their next rendezvous. He was glad that she was impressed, happy to see her smile at him and only him as they left the room.

She stepped out of her office and frowned immediately as she caught sight of the man lounging on the chair in her waiting room. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe and continued to grimace at him.

"_Konnichi wa,_ Mimi-chan!" Yamato's grin was strangely big and boyish, and his blue eyes glimmered with mischief and a teasing glow. He was in an unnaturally good mood, and it almost scared her.

Almost.

She was forced to take a step back and half-gape at his cheerful appearance.

"_Ko … Konnichi wa, _Yamato-kun," she stammered, still confused as to why he was so happy.

Instead of thinking about it, she spun to face Junpei, whose face had become strangely stone-like and grim, while his posture had stiffened, eyes wide at the man sitting before them.

Immediately, Yamato's eyes made contact with Junpei's and he lunged forward, standing up and staring at the larger man with a calculating glare. It was almost as though they knew each other, and their meeting had not been a cheerful one.

Sweat trickled down Mimi's back as tension filled the room, her heart pounding so fast that she swore she, and everyone else in the room, could hear it. In the corner of her eye, she could see that Setsuna had even paused in her work, limply holding the phone to her ear as she watched the scenario.

Just what was going on?

Yamato forced a small, proper grin onto his face and nodded curtly. "Shibayama-san."

Junpei, in turned, nodded as well, before replying, "Lieutenant Ishida-san."

Yamato proceeded to stuff his hands into his pockets, appearing rather nonchalant and relaxed. However, Mimi knew better; the man was always on alert, and under the relaxed pose, his muscles were tense and patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. At some point in time, she came to acknowledge that he was almost like a snake, constantly ready for battle, always poised and prepared, and never caught off-guard. His head was always up, tongue always flickering for the scent of an attack, and his body always ready to receive and retaliate.

That was Yamato the policeman.

"Shibayama-san, we've been trying to contact you, but it seems that you have been ignoring our phone calls. It seems that my Detectives and I would like to set up another meeting with you." He smirked. "Does tomorrow afternoon sound good?"

Junpei took a step back, his mouth slightly open in shock and confusion, before he stood straight once more, crossing his arms and smirking in return. "Not unless my lawyer is present. Besides, I'm busy tomorrow afternoon."

Yamato arched a brow and his smirked deepened. Mimi was actually afraid.

"Really? Well, then, it won't take us long to get a warrant, but thank you for your generous offer." He nodded to the man. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Junpei scowled and his hands came to his sides in tight fists. His whole body shook with tension and anger, but he wouldn't dare try to hit the man. Mimi-chan was right there, standing so beautifully by the door, and he wouldn't dare disappoint her.

It took several moments and multiple deep breaths, but he finally managed to ease his racing heart and calm his boiling blood. Turning around, he nodded in return. "I suppose so, then." He then stepped out of the office, taking great care not to slam the door behind him.

Mimi scowled at Yamato, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Ishida-san, get your ass in my office now so that we can talk." She spun to face Setsuna, and her scowl gave way to a smile. "Setsuna-san, you can leave if you want. I don't have any more appointments left for the day and I can lock up as I leave."

Setsuna simply beamed, shutting off her computer and standing up, she gave Mimi a knowing smile before gathering her belongings and leaving the office, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"For the second time, Ishida-san, get your ass into my office." Mimi spun around, marching into her office and sitting down at her desk. She was dimly aware of Yamato coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

She didn't even wait for him to sit down and simply attacked him. "Do you make it a habit to come into people's workplaces and harass their clients or patients? You come marching in, act like you own the place, and then harass poor Shibayama-san! What gives you the right to do such a thing?"

Yamato quickly and deftly pulled out his badge, flashing it at her. "This, of course, gives me such a right." He slowly stepped towards her desk, deep down actually saddened that the piece of wood was placed between them. "And what makes you think that I was harassing your patient?"

"You barging in here and talking about all of this nonsense about meetings and warrants! The poor man had just finished his session with me, and you come in here and attack him, threatening to get a warrant and arrest him. What in the world did he do to you?"

"Well, he is obstructing the law, for one thing, since he refuses to help us in our task." Yamato began to move around the desk. "Second, did you know that he was a security guard Cruella's? Of course you didn't; it's not in your job description to find out where everybody else works. So, obviously he's a witness and a possible suspect, which gives me more right to question him. Thirdly," he reached out, tugging on her hair as she went to move away, "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

Her eyes widened with perplexity. "_Na … nani? _What are you talking about? The way he was looking at me? Have you gone mad?"

"Mimi-chan, if you haven't noticed it by now, you are mine, and I don't like the way he was looking at you. If I don't like something, I'll do anything in my power to stop it, and you know that."

He moved forward, pressing his lips against her ear.

Her hands met his chest and shoved him hard, pushing him away. "Yamato-kun, while I do admit that you are mine as well, I must also say that you have some serious ego issues to get over. First of all, I had just finished a session with him, so it's understandable if he's looking at me like I 'saved' him or something, since I am, technically, saving him future problems. Secondly, people are allowed to stare at me; we have _eyes_! At some point in time, somebody else will also look at me, people will have crushes, they will have idols, they will stare at people who are ugly or who they hate. But, just because someone is staring at me doesn't give you any right to harass them in _my_ office." She crossed her arms, eyes flashing dangerously. "Right now, you are in my territory, my jurisdiction, and you just stuck your nose in somewhere it does not belong. I will have to demand that you forget you ever saw him at my office."

"What?" His eyes widened and his body tensed, fists clenched. "I couldn't possibly do that! It might have something to do with the case!"

"I don't care," she replied stubbornly. "I have a doctor-patient agreement contract that cannot be breached unless the patient shows that he is a serious danger to himself or others, and proves such. For now, you will have to forget about seeing him here and try to find out about our meetings some other way." She rolled her eyes this time at his slowness. "For _Kami's_ sake, just look in his damn credit card bills, you'll probably find payments to the Itashi Institute in there. It'll save me trouble and possibly save me from losing my job and credibility."

He frowned down at her, eyes flashing dangerously in return. "You _baka_. Aren't you even dimly aware that this is a very important police investigation? You don't think that we didn't know he was seeing a therapist?"

He spat the words at her and she, reluctantly and unconsciously, took a step back at the ferocity in his voice. Her hands actually shook, and, to her amazement, she felt her womb clench in arousal at the demanding, powerful tone in his voice.

'_Damn it, not now; I need to be able to yell back at him, not want to fuck him,'_ she cursed to herself.

"And," he continued, "you're an even bigger _baka_ for suggesting that we look for a cheque to the Itashi Institute. Obviously it will be labeled to the damn institute and not you, which is precisely what we found! Of course we didn't know who he was going to, but everyone assumed that it was for anything but sex. He's works in a damn club dedicated to sex for _Kami's_ sake! But, damn it; he was my suspect before he was your damn client."

"Prove it," she retaliated, spitting the words at him. "Prove to me that you have the right to harass him and I'll apologize."

He somehow, swiftly, managed to get around the desk, switch their positions, and push her under his grasps. He leaned close, whispering the words in her ear. "He's a violent man with a track record, Mimi-chan. He's been under police scrutiny before, especially after his father's death." Her eyes widened with shock. "Yes, we figured that he had killed his father, but we were never really certain. So, he's been a suspect from the moment we found out that he was a bodyguard."

He reached out, tugging her hair with his hand, pulling her head back so she could stare up at him. "I don't like the idea of you treating a criminal, especially a violent one, Mimi-chan. From now on, I will be worried. That's why I harassed him; he's already in trouble with the law for obstructing justice, which means that he could spend roughly a week in a jail if I feel like it. I don't trust the man, Mimi-chan, he pulls the lawyer card too often and he's lying. I need him scared, Mimi-chan, he's afraid of me, he's afraid of being caught, and I know it."

He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "And, if he ever lays a fucking finger on you, I'll kill him."

The shock faded from her eyes, which slowly filled with happiness and love. The man was so damn protective of her and so damn passionate about his job. He was stubborn as hell, too, and that's what she loved about him.

"Lieutenant," she murmured softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, "do you feel like showing me _why_ you'll protect me?" She pulled him down, nibbling on his earlobe. For a while now, the feel of his body pressing against hers had been slowly arousing her, and now that they were close, her breath on his flesh, his hand tangled in her hair, the arousal exploded into a full flame of desire.

"Show me how much you need me, Lieutenant."

In a flash, their clothes were on the floor and she was lifted onto her desk, legs spread before him. He bruised her mouth with kiss after kiss as his hands deftly removed her silky panties, tossing them aside before plunging his fingers deep inside of her.

Her head fell back, mouth opening with a loud cry as pleasure coursed through her. His fingers moved quickly and deeply, rubbing her g-spot while thumb teased her clitoris. Her hips slowly began to pump against his hand while his free one yanked at her hair, pulling her lips back to his for another fierce kiss.

While their tongues battled for dominance, she felt her body begin the familiar tightening sensation as her orgasm drew near.

"Ah, Yamato-kun," she gasped.

He slid his fingers out of her and pulled back, making sure that she watched as he licked her juices off of his digits, one by one.

"Mimi-chan, you taste so damn good," he growled, his eyes darkened with pleasure. "I could fucking drink you forever."

Watching him lick her juices off of his fingers, she softly cried out at her body tightened even more, her breasts taut with pleasure, nipples almost painfully hard. Her entire body heated up to the point where she was coated with a layer of sweat and she feared that she might burst into flames.

But, as her body reacted in such a way, her mind was thinking, slowly, as he licked his hand clean, of how much she loved his eyes. His eyes always conveyed so many emotions, so much tenderness, compassion, and love for her, and whenever she felt his gaze on her, she knew that she was the only person he could see. It didn't matter if they were alone in a room or in a crowd of thousands of people, she knew that he only had eyes for her and only watched her with love in his eyes.

She knew it, from the moment they had met, that he would only look at her. She felt it, when her body tightened with arousal at the sound of his voice, and her mind cried for release as his beautiful blue eyes stared into her own amber ones.

Damn it, she loved him, and she knew whenever she looked into his eyes, that he loved her too.

How could she have tried fighting such a strong love?

"Yamato-kun!" she shouted as he yanked off his boxers and slammed his hard length into her moist depths.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as his lips found her ear. Teasing the lobe, moving around the earrings, he whispered softly, "Mimi-chan, I'm going to show you just how much I fucking need you." He slowly slid out until the tip rested against her folds. "I'm going to fuck you so damn hard because you are _mine_," he growled, surging against her, thrusting deep into her.

"Fuck!" she screamed as he rubbed against her g-spot.

"You're mine, Mimi-chan," he slid out again. "Just as I'm yours," he nearly shouted, slamming his hips harder and faster against hers.

Her head fell back as he gripped her hips, thrusting hard and deep into her, taking her without mercy while she took pleasure in turn. Her body had exploded, several times already as she fell off of the precipice into a world of pleasure so powerful that it made screams bubble from her throat.

This was what their passion and love was like; a turbulent, passionate storm that would never cease. He would fuck her, hard and fast, and she would return it with glee, responding with a pleasure that never seemed to abate but always grow more and more powerful.

He pulled her against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest, the friction making her squeeze her legs tightly around his waist as she screamed while another orgasm washed over her.

"Mimi-chan," he growled, biting on her lower lip as he moved harder and faster, "you're mine, you're fucking mine, and I'm yours." She threw her head back and screamed with pleasure.

"Tell me," he bit her throat, bruising her flesh, making his mark, "tell me that you're mine and I'm yours."

Her nails dug into his back as he surged forward, his body tensing as he felt his orgasm coming. "Oh, Yamato-kun, I'm yours!" she screamed, her body clenching around him. "You're mine and I'm yours! Come for me, come with me."

"Yes," he growled, moving harder and faster until they cried out each other's names in unison. He filled her and she felt complete, falling over the edge and into the ocean of his blue eyes and absolute pleasure.

She was complete, she was his for eternity and he would always be hers, no matter what happened.

She would always love him.

* * *

He sat beside the bed, holding her hand as he watched her sleep. She looked stronger, like in the past few days she had been eating more. Her face no longer had the gaunt, pale look, she had colour to her cheeks and it made him happy.

She was smiling now whenever she woke up, and she stayed awake for much longer.

It made his day whenever she said his name with the love in her voice.

"Sora-chan, I love you," he whispered softly in the room, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Taichi-kun, you're so sweet." He watched as her lips moved, murmuring the words back at him. "I love you too."

He moved his hand from holding hers to cupping her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on her smooth flesh that now appeared more alive than it did a few days ago.

"How long have I been sleeping for?" Her eyes opened slowly, exposing the chocolate orbs that had lay hidden for the past couple of hours.

He smiled down at her. "Only a couple of hours; you were already asleep when I showed up and I felt that you needed your rest. Mimi-chan and Yamato-kun came by earlier, just to say hi, and they left almost right away." He then chuckled. "They seemed a little … flushed."

Sora blushed darkly before letting a few giggles burst from her throat. "Taichi-kun…" she said warningly, her voice finally growing stronger as she began to slowly sit up.

He leaned forward, immediately adjusting her pillows so that she would not be uncomfortable. He wanted her as comfortable as possible, that way he could minimize the amount of pain she felt and ensure that she would heal properly, without any difficulties.

He just couldn't stand the thought of her in any more pain.

Fighting back the thoughts, he grinned broadly at her. "I know, I know, but, it's not my fault that Mimi-chan's blouse was buttoned all wrong and that Yamato-kun's tie was crooked. The man's tie is _never_ crooked. So, of course, we can only assume…"

"Taichi-kun, while I find that discussing the whole process of why you came to conclude such things, I would rather just … talk about what we're going to do." Her hand lifted to lie across her belly, rubbing her abdomen as she thought about the tiny life that now lay within her.

It was a strange sensation; scary, terrifying, but, at the same time, it felt good. It was a beautiful feeling, knowing that in just a few months, she would bring this life to the world, where the child would be loved and cherished, and, in turn, would learn to love and cherish others. It was simply amazing that she carried this life within her, inside of her body, and that she would do so for the next nine months.

She wondered briefly if she could get maternity leave from her work, but the thought was only just that: brief. She did not want to dwell on it just yet; it was something in the future, not something for the present.

"Sora-chan," Taichi smiled, "I think I found a nice house for us."

Her eyes widened with shock, mouth agape as she heard those words. Taichi had been house hunting while she'd been lying in the hospital, unable to do anything on her own except walk a bit and go to the washroom? Damn him and being able to surprise her and love her. She was a lucky woman.

"Actually," he added sheepishly, "I've found a few houses that might be nice. They're affordable, and one of them even has the mortgage all paid off, so that's a bonus. And, they're not too big either, just the right size for a family."

Family. What a nice, wholesome, beautiful word of love and joy. She and Taichi would now make a family of their own and just the idea of it made her want to cry with happiness.

"Taichi-kun," she choked as those tears began to flow freely. "Oh, Taichi-kun, I love you so much."

He leaned forward, holding her hands tightly, smiling at her as she smiled and cried. "I love you too, Sora-chan." He loved her so damn much that, at times, it scared the shit out of him. But, it made him happy, happier than he had ever been before in his life, to love someone and know that they loved him back.

"Sora-chan," he whispered softly, "eventually, I want us to get married. Once the investigation is over, we'll buy our house and have a nice wedding. A small one, just friends and family, in the backyard; I think it would be nice."

"Taichi-kun, you're too good to me." She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, so much."

He grinned at her as she wiped away her tears. "I think that we already established that point a few minutes ago." He then sat back, watching as she composed herself, and noted that he just couldn't stop smiling. Technically, he had just proposed to her, and, technically, she had just said yes. That was the greatest feeling ever.

Her eyes suddenly went from great joy to becoming darkened with worry, and his smile instantly vanished.

"Sora-chan?"

"I'm … I'm worried, Taichi-kun." She began to gnaw on her lower lip, showing just how extreme the worry was. She never gnawed on her lower lip unless it was something overly stressful or important.

His stomach began to instantly twist into knots. Was she about to refuse when she had just accepted? Was she just going to turn and walk away? Was she going to suggest that they get the unthinkable…an abortion? _Kami-sama_, please, don't let it be any of those, please, don't let it…

"A … about what?" He couldn't keep his voice from shaking; his heart had begun to thunder rhythmically and his pulse had instantly sped up along with his breathing.

He was anxious.

"It's about Mimi-chan, so please, don't stress too much." She smiled up at him; damn her, she knew him far too well for his own good.

He wanted to breathe a loud sigh of relief, but he knew that it would be insulting towards Mimi, and it would also be selfish of him. But, he couldn't help but feel beyond relieved that she was not going to suggest the worst possible things in the world.

"What about Mimi-chan?"

Sora began to gnaw on her lower lip anew, this time twining her hands unconsciously, as she began to think of how to say it. It would be such a touchy subject, especially since Mimi never knew that Sora knew…yes, Sora knew about her story, about her life in America, and she was now afraid that the nightmares wouldn't stop…

"Mimi-chan has a … problem." Taichi arched a brow at the word, but she continued before he could ask. "Mimi-chan has been getting, well, nightmares for about three or four years now, and they're really bad." She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the blanket, playing with the hospital wristband. "They get so bad, at times, that she would literally be physically sick. They're really bad; she screams and wakes up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and shakes for hours afterwards."

Taichi listened quietly as Sora told him the story of her friend. How could Mimi have been trying to keep this a secret from anyone for so long? Then again, he had not known Mimi for as long as Sora had, and they were not really best friends, more like good acquaintances, but, in the long run, he found it hard to believe that this girl was plagued by such violent nightmares. It actually scared him, made him wonder just what could have happened to cause such a thing.

He wondered if Yamato knew about it…

"She doesn't know, but I know what they're about," Sora muttered after a few minutes of silence. "I … I can't tell her that, though. I don't think she wants me to know, because she never told me." She looked up at Taichi, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She suffered so much, went through so much pain, and I don't think she wanted me to worry about her. She always tried to be so quiet when she woke up, always pretended to fall back asleep after, but I know that she could never fall asleep afterwards. I … I can't stand seeing her in so much pain, and sometimes, I wonder if I'm the only person who can help her.

"I always hold her, I tell her everything will be okay, remind her that it's just a nightmare, and I feel like I'm the only person who can help her. I'm the only one who knows about the nightmares; she never told her family, friends, not even her coworkers, who could help her."

Taichi leaned forward, gently wiping away her tears. "Sora-chan, she's strong, I'm sure she'll be fine on her own. If not, then you can always ask her to get help…"

"That's the problem," she sobbed. "She's too stubborn; she won't get help. She'd rather suffer alone than know that I worry about her. I bet … I bet that she, deep down, doesn't even want us to move in together. I bet that she secretly wants to be able to move in with us, just so that she could be with someone who can help her." She rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling. But she couldn't…it hurt so much to know that her friend was in pain. It hurt so damn much …

"I'm afraid to leave her alone, Taichi-kun…I'm afraid of what will happen to her. Don't you understand? She won't sleep, even now she doesn't eat enough, and she'd been borderline anorexic before, after she came back from America. She won't see help; she'll just stay alone and suffer, without telling anyone." She choked out the last few words, burying her face in her hands.

"I hate seeing her in pain, Taichi…I hate it. I just want to make it all go away…"

He held her as she cried, held her tightly in his embrace as she shook and sobbed in his arms, choking out that she loved Mimi, that Mimi was like a sister and she couldn't stand seeing her in pain. He held her as his heart broke for her, snapping into millions of pieces as she cried for her friend, cried for the pain her friend suffered through, and cried because, in the end, she would never be the one to make it all go away for good…

"Sora-chan," he paused and waited as she looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and face tear-streaked, "what … happened to Mimi-chan?"

The tears, which had momentarily ceased when Taichi murmured that she was strong and loving, flowed anew. "Oh, Taichi-kun, I wish I could tell you … but I can't … she doesn't know that I know … the police told me what happened … I can't tell you; it wouldn't be fair to her. I'm sorry, Taichi-kun … I'm sorry."

He then held her as she cried, and he vowed that he would, somehow, try to find a way to help Mimi's nightmares stop, so long as it made Sora's tears stop.

* * *

They stood in the dark room, the curtains drawn, letting in the least amount of light possible, just enough so that they could see each other's silhouettes. However, they still knew each other's names and knew ways to blackmail one another. But, when they were together, they did not use one another's names. Instead, they had nicknames, names they had made up for one another, names that did not seem to fit them while their real names did.

The small one, the leader, was known as Haru, the bigger man was called Tazuno, and the brains, the man the least involved, was Kin. They knew each other only by those names in these situations, and pretended to barely know one another outside of these meetings.

Haru was seated this time, in a comfortable fauteuil by a desk, fiddling with what the others assumed was a pencil or pen of some sort. He was stressed, nervous, incredibly anxious and fidgety.

Something was happening, and it would be something big.

Kin leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, and watched patiently as Tazuno paced quickly back and forth.

"What's the matter, Tazuno-san?" This came from Haru, who noticed the severe anxiety and stress also flowing from the bigger man.

He worried now; the bigger man, while excellent at what he did, had always been rather slow and stupid, and the most likely out of the three to be caught with some sort of evidence.

Had the idiot been caught?

"No … nothing. It's just those fucking cops," he spat, anger flowing through his voice, causing the stress to dissipate as his fury grew. "They think they know fucking everything. They've been trying to raid my house, and my coworker's house, for weeks now. Bastards seem to think that one of us have something to do with this shit."

Haru smiled grimly in the shadows. "Well, they seem to be on the right track, don't they?" His voice held not contentment, and was laced with poison and sarcasm so powerful that it almost affected Kin.

Almost.

"No … no, I'm still lucky. I think they're going more for the other guy and not me, but I'm not sure. They're sort of eased up on me for the time being."

"Really? Well, I supposed that that's good to know. Well, let's give them something to work on, eh?"

This made Kin arch a brow, and he watched as Haru spun the pen through his fingers, slowly and calmly, almost methodically, as though he were using the motion to create some sort of plan in his mind.

This was the only part of Haru that Kin seemed to remotely respect, other than that; the man was useless, annoying, and whined like a bitch. He wasn't even sure what had drawn him into this situation, it had begun as something between Haru and Tazuno and somehow, Kin had been brought into the group.

Oh yes, he remembered now, it was the offer of money. Beautiful, lovely yen that made him smile and become a part of the program. But now, he wouldn't dare leave; it would certainly ensure that he would be blackmailed.

But, little did they know, but he was secretly helping the enemy by laying hints and clues, giving the enemy just what they wanted, while Haru paid him to keep him quiet. Oh, he was quiet, he was silent when he gave the cops what they wanted, he was silent as they, themselves, came to their conclusion, and he silently stood by and watched as everything unfolded around him.

He didn't interfere on either side; he came to conclude, a long time ago, that he wouldn't interfere. He was smart, he knew how to weigh the consequences, and he knew how to act in such a way that it always benefited him. That, somehow, made him the most dangerous in the threesome.

Fortunately for him, Haru was too blind to see it, and Tazuno was too damn stupid to even equate such an improbably calculation. So, in the end, he simply smiled and received whatever he wanted.

"We have to act soon," Haru said, breaking the tense silence of the room that followed Haru's earlier statement. "I don't want to fool around anymore; I'm sick of those pathetic people, those useless women and their stupid ways to fight back. I want to go after my target."

Kin leaned forward, listening patiently, while Tazuno paused in his pacing to stare at the leader.

"What do you mean?" Of course, the idiotic question had to come from Tazuno, of all the stupid people in the world.

Haru made a sound of impatience and annoyance. It seemed that Tazuno's low intelligence also got on Haru's nerves from time to time.

"What I mean is that we have to go after _her_. In a couple of days, we'll get her and take her, we'll bring her to the hideout, and there, I will make her mine." He clenched his fists tightly and the room as filled with the sound of the pen weakening under his grip. "She will fucking pay for everything that she ever did to me, and I will make her know that she will always be mine."

"Haru, I would like to be the one to point out that you are seriously fucked up." Kin finally spoke, quiet and calm, while his voice held a slight teasing hint to it, almost condescending in nature. But, Haru missed that particular tone and focused only on the spoken words. Figure it would be him to completely miss the main point of things.

"What gives you the right to call me fucked up? You're the one who does all of this shit for us, and for what? You do it for money. Who the fuck gives a damn about money? That's fucked up. Getting revenge, making someone pay, is not fucked up."

Kin wanted to retaliate, but he knew that the logic behind his words would be lost to the short and bigger men. In the end, Haru would simply misunderstand him, or even understand him, and he would just go ballistic and start shouting.

He really did not want Haru to start yelling; yelling meant being loud, and being loud meant that it was more likely that others might hear, and others hearing could mean that someone might discover them. One thing always leads to another, and sometimes, at the end of the line, the consequences were not really pleasant.

So, in the end, he remained quiet while Haru spoke passionately about his dream. He listened as the man spoke about making some woman his, nearly screaming that she would pay, and that he would make her feel pain before the end. Kin, all the while, counted the amount of money he would have this time, and thought about ways to secretly help the cops so that they could get off of his damn back.

Cooperation was always the key.

Never interfere…it always caused trouble.

**There we go, that's the end of Chapter 21. **

**I'm going to try and start working on Chapter 22 immediately, but I will have some troubles completing it within the next few weeks, since I have several essays due within a small amount of time. So please, forgive me if it takes a lot of time to update. **

**I hope that you enjoyed this, particularly the lemon for those who didn't scream, cover their ears and close their eyes. **

**Anyways, please, do not forget about my review/update rule. Three reviews and I will update. Please make them nice, lol. **

**Also, if you find any mistakes, please feel free to tell me so in my review and I will fix it as soon as possible, as well as thank you with love.**

**Until the next chapter,**

**Ja ne!**


	22. PreDinner Proposal

**First off: apologies**

**Sorry for taking a while. I have good reasons. A) I had a major paper due (which ended up being 15 pages long, without bibliography) that, basically, if I don't pass, I fail my program. B) Another paper for English. C) Assignment for physical education. D) TESTS!! E) I GOT SICK! F) work, work, work, work, and wasting my entire weekend WORKING. **

**Can you say that I have a lot of 'free time'?**

**What is free time? **

**SO! I apologize on behalf of my douchebaggy immune system because it is a giant prick.**

**Not literally…but, I think you get it.**

**Also, if you must know, I kind of don't want to finish this story. Mainly because it's my baby, and, well…I'm getting to close to finishing it, and I kind of don't want it to end…but it has to…you know. It sucks.**

**CHAPTER TIME! Limey smut, limey smut, limey, limey, LIMEY SMUT!**

**Hee, hee, hee, hee!**

**Oh, but you have to read further for the limey smut, so…YOU ARE WARNED!**

**It's about thirty pages in…joking, just joking, jeez…**

**Sorry…cold medicine fucks with my brain.**

**Chapter 22**

**Pre-Dinner Proposal**

Thank _Kami-sama_ that it was the weekend, she thought as she rubbed the cleaner into the mahogany table. Thank _Kami-sama_ that, as of tonight, she would no longer be alone.

She listened to the low, beautiful, orchestra music of Nobuo Uematsu's soundtrack for _Final_ _Fantasy_ _VII_: _Advent_ _Children_, listening as the strings slowly joined the bass in a quick rhythm that began to increase.

Focusing on her job at cleaning the dinning room table, she smiled to herself, reminding herself that tonight, Sora would be coming home, and they would have a delicious meal together. Taichi would be there, as well, but, most importantly, Yamato would come by.

She wondered vaguely what he was doing right now, at work, and wondered if he was thinking about her. She also wondered if he would want her to move in with him…

For the past few days, she had considered giving Taichi and Sora the duplex, seeing as it was already furnished, had two bedrooms, lots of space and even a small backyard. It was definitely situated in a better part of town than their apartment, although both were just as nice.

A small part of her, however, wanted to keep the apartment as it was, just so that, at night, she could slip into Sora's bed whenever she was plagued by the garish nightmares of the past.

Maybe she could move in with Yamato-kun? After all, while she had been staying with him and Taichi, she found that sleeping in his arms was a lot more effective than waking up from her nightmares and having Sora console her. In fact, whenever she and Yamato had slept together, she found that she was granted a nightmare-free sleep.

But, what if he said no?

She tried not to think about it as she moved from cleaning the table to dusting the matching cabinet that stood beside the table. She had already spent a good couple of hours cleaning every piece of silver, glass, and porcelain from that damn cabinet, and, while the normal person would find it to be rather time-consuming, she found cleaning to be almost soothing.

Especially considering the mood she was in and the thoughts that kept plaguing her mind.

"_Kuso_," she cursed softly, trying not to think about the loneliness that would soon come and overwhelm her. "Damn it all to hell." She, truly and honestly, did not want to be left alone.

Not like she had been back there, alone and unable to fight back physically.

Now, once Sora left her for good, she would become mentally unstable and weakened.

She wouldn't be able to fight back.

"_Kuso. Kuso. Kuso. Kuso!"_ she repeated, each curse growing louder and more forceful with each passing second.

She was being bloody selfish and damn her to hell if she would stand in the way of Sora and Taichi's happy life. It wasn't fair to Sora and Taichi.

No, she would have to stand back, grit her teeth, and bear with it. She would have to deal with the pain that would come from being alone, sit back and watch from her corner as they smiled and the light glowed around them, while her corner remained dark and cold.

'_Only if you let it stay that way,'_ she reminded herself as she moved from the dining room to the kitchen. '_Only if you let the darkness consume you and eat away at you, only then will you stay in the dark and never come out._'

She sighed softly, adjusting the bandana holding back her hair, before tackling the kitchen floor with a prepared bucket of cleaner and water and a wet cloth.

She would have to fight against the darkness like how the solution fought against the dirt and grime. She would need to push back, thrust and punch, be as violent as possible in order to push it all the way back until it returned to the small recess in her mind that she had created just for it.

But damn it; it would be hard.

Without Sora, she wasn't sure she would be able to do it in time…

But, she would have to at least try to fight back; if she didn't, she would probably had to admit herself into some sort of psychiatry clinic and be treated by the very colleagues who looked up to her.

Damn it; she couldn't let that happen. It would completely obliterate the reputation she had fought to earn in the past three years. The reputation she _had_ earned from her hard work and determination.

From never letting the damn past fuck her up.

But now…her lifeline was leaving her, letting her go, and expecting her to be able to live and survive on her own. Shit, she had no clue if she would be able to do just that. Survive, psychologically, on her own.

It was going to be too damn hard.

Sighing heavily, she sat back on her heels, placing her hands on her thighs and closed her eyes. Already, she could feel the darkness creeping upon her, slowly trickling out of the back of her mind, trying to find a way into her conscious state.

She had to think about something, anything, that could possibly push back the creeping darkness and illuminate her, even for a moment, in order to bring her a moment's peace.

_Yamato_.

His smiling, jovial face filled her mind, his grin broad and eye aglow with pleasure. Damn him, it seemed rather obvious that he'd be the first thought to come to her mind. But…it helped. Her mind eased, relaxing as her body did the same, the muscles no longer tensed and bulged, but flexible and smooth. The darkness fell back, creeping back to its small crevice as Yamato's face remained in her mind's eye.

Her eyes flung open, wide with a mixture of curiosity, anxiety, and confusion. What was it about him that abated her fears so quickly and with such ease? Why is it that the mere thought of him made her feel more secure than when she had been with Sora? How come his grin seemed to hold more power than Sora's brilliant smile?

What the hell was wrong with her? Could it have been more obvious?

They were in love…but she loved Sora, too. Only … it wasn't the same kind of love that she and Sora shared. This was a different love, an intimate love, one where they shared their fears and anxieties, hopes and dreams, and one where they felt safe and secure with one another, no matter what the situation.

She thought about the past week, remembered the nights she spent in Yamato's arms, falling asleep soundlessly and dreamlessly. She recalled the warmth she felt in his embrace, how she felt so loved and secure whenever she just looked in his smoldering, blue eyes. She loved the way he held her, touched her, and spoke to her. She had become to amazingly comfortable with him and knew that she had fallen hard for someone who loved her just as much.

But that's what scared her. What if his love for her was just a lie? What if he was just like Michael? A deceitful man, using her as a means to an end, pretending to be in love just to achieve what he wants?

"_That man and I may have looked like me, but I promise you that we are nothing alike. I would rather die than even think about hurting you."_

_"I love you from the bottom of my heart."_

_"I'm not him, Mimi-san."_

His words echoed at the back of her mind and soon became the full focus of her thoughts. She was foolish at times, thinking of the silliest things and scenarios when she should know better.

Ishida Yamato did love her, from the bottom of his heart, just as she loved him from the bottom of hers.

The new question was: was he ready to move in with her?

She had considered such a possibility for a good time, ever since she had heard that Sora would be leaving the hospital and coming home. She knew that Taichi and Sora would want to live together, and still fought the fear that constantly clenched at her throat at such a thought.

But she would have to let Sora go; it would be selfish to keep her back. That she had already decided. But now, she could be selfish and wonder just what would happen to her?

Would they take the duplex? If they did, then where did that leave her? Would she have to go off and find her own home? She would get the car, for certain, since it was, originally, hers. But…

She laughed out loud, smiling broadly as she scrubbed at the floor. She sounded like she was divorcing Sora.

In a sense, it was like a divorce, for they would have to go through their property and figure out just what belonged to whom. They had paid half for the television, but she would let Sora keep it. Eventually, they would have to write the lists of what item belonged to whom.

It was then, when they would be writing those lists up, that she would be the weakest. She knew, deep down, that as they went through each other's belongings, she would be most likely to break down and lose control of her emotions.

She couldn't dare do that; it would be too painful for Sora and cause far too many difficulties in the moving process.

But, damn it, she felt like she was losing a friend, and she didn't want to lose her.

"You're a silly, silly girl, Tachikawa," she muttered to herself, wiping down the floor before standing to begin washing the dishes. "You think of this as a divorce, you talk like Sora's dead, and, yet, Sora's alive and well, and she's going to have a baby. Of course she'll want to move in with the father, it's only reasonable."

But still…the gnawing, darker side of her mind tried to confuse and consume her, edging over the line separating light and dark, trying to make its way over to the jovial, optimistic part of her.

If Yamato-kun didn't let her move in with him, then where would she go? What would that mean for their relationship? Was it too early? Was it because he didn't want to move in with someone else? Did he want his freedom? Or was it … the unthinkable?

It was called the unthinkable because she couldn't dare think such thoughts; if she did, the darkness would overwhelm her and she would spend the next several hours crying and brooding instead of cleaning and preparing the welcome home dinner.

She wanted to tell herself that it could not possibly be such a thing, that the unthinkable could not be any reason for him to refuse her demand, but, in the end, it was still a plausible theory.

Goddamn it, since when did her life become a theory?

She had to think of something else, anything else, aside from her pessimistic thoughts that removed all joy and warmth in her life.

She should focus on the now, think only about this night and how happy she would be to have Sora home. She would force herself to think the unthinkable later, after the celebration, in a few days' time, when she would corner Yamato and ask him if she could move in.

But, first off, she would have to ask him about the cases…

Damn it, damn it, and damn it all to hell ten times over! Why did her mind have to fall on the damn murder cases? Considering her mood, that was one of the worst things she could be thinking about right now.

"But, Tachikawa, you have every right to worry about them. You haven't been called to any crime scenes in a few weeks," she orally pointed out.

It was true; in the past few weeks it seemed that she had not received a single call concerning fresh crime scenes. Yamato and Taichi had still be working endless amounts of hours to try and find the perpetrator, but it seemed that the killer had decided to take some form of break.

She wondered if the last woman had been the one he had wanted to kill all along…

No, it didn't follow the profile, she reminded herself. The last kill would be the most personal, the most savage, and most passionate. The last kill, yes, had seemed rather passionate, but more savage and lacked all of the emotion she suspected he would convey during the killing. Although it was gruesome, it was not gruesome enough.

The woman's face, like the others', had remained relatively untouched. When he made his final kill, he would destroy the face of the woman, destroying her identity, obliterating the face of the person who had demeaned him and had given him the status of a lower life-form.

So, what was he doing now? Had he found that woman? Was he currently in the process of torturing her, killing her slowly and painfully, as a way of getting his vengeance for his years of torment?

"What are you doing now, Mr. Murderer?" she whispered aloud, pausing in her cleaning process to stare out of the window above the sink, looking out into the small backyard. "What made you stop? Did you find someone else? Or, are you waiting for the right moment, the right time to do the next one?"

She began to wash a large cutting knife, murmuring softly, "What are you thinking?"

* * *

He cut the ignition of his car, having parked it on the curb in front of the home, leaving the driveway free for future occupants. Climbing out of the vehicle, he adjusted his jacket against the cold November wind, locking the doors and making his way to the duplex.

He noted, mentally, that the guest of honour had not yet arrived.

Good, that gave him time to have a bit of fun before the dinner.

He grinned broadly as he knocked on the front door, adjusting his navy blue dress shirt. Maybe he would even have enough time for a quickie…

The door opened, exposing a beautiful woman, clad in the loveliest little dress he had ever seen. The straps were thick and curved down to the corset-style bodice the colour of fresh roses. The skirt was a simple black, falling straight to the knees, which he deemed a little more conservative than usual for the woman before him.

Then again, it was just a welcome home dinner, not a party or night at a club.

But still…

"Well, Mimi-chan, I must say that you look very sexy."

A blush covered her ivory cheeks and she stepped back to let Ishida Yamato into the home. "I'll admit that you look pretty hot yourself," she replied, loving the way his black pants hugged his legs the right way, and how the navy shirt accented his deep blue eyes.

He grinned in response, his eyes glowing with joy as he stepped in, dutifully removing his shoes before stepping past the entryway and into the home.

The railing had been repaired, having been replaced by a lovely, ornately done black metal railing that reminded him of a Victorian fence. While he normally preferred wooden railings, he felt that, perhaps, the metal one had been constructed with the best intentions in mind…To prevent another person from breaking them and falling to their near death.

He wanted to exhale loudly at the grim reminder but instead focused all of his attention on Mimi. Tonight was a night to celebrate; Sora was coming home, in good health and spirits, and they would celebrate to her health and to her pregnancy.

He wanted to chuckle softly as Mimi led the way to the kitchen. Taichi had been bouncing off of the walls since Sora had agreed to go house-hunting with him when she was healthy enough. Of course, Taichi considered this as an acceptance to a marriage proposal and over-exaggerated every aspect of it.

"Wow, that smells delicious!" he couldn't help but exclaim as he stepped into the kitchen. The smells that wafted through the air were mouthwatering, making his mind reel with pleasure and his stomach growl suddenly with hunger and yearning for the cooking food.

"Thanks," Mimi replied softly, turning away from him to tug back on an apron and make her way over to the stove. "I was planning on doing a mixed dinner." She smiled. "It's not very traditional, but I know Sora loves _makizushi_, but miso soup would be good for her, and I felt that it would be nice to make some _gyoza_, too." She muttered the food list sheepishly, and he noted she ignored the typical fried fish and other varieties of their typical, national cuisine.

He laughed out loud, earning a brilliant blush from her in response. "Mimi-chan, you're silly. Who cares if it's that traditional or not? Let's just make a pile of Sora's favourite food, shove it in front of her, and let her eat to her heart's content."

"Well, according to the doctor, she is a few months pregnant, so…"

Yamato promptly choked on the air he was breathing. "Months? But she hardly looks pregnant. How can she be a few months in?"

"Apparently she's about three or four months pregnant. Don't ask me how it doesn't show; I don't stare at her naked body twenty-four seven."

Having finished tying on her apron, Mimi turned her back to Yamato and began the process of making _gyoza_._ Gyoza_ is a dumpling, and hers would be filled with a mixture of meat and vegetables. Moving to a smaller, boiling pot, she drained the water in the sink and placed it on a cool element, letting it cool down while she turned her attention to chopping up some green onion.

"That means that she must have _some_ physical signs of a pregnancy." Yamato leaned against the counter near Mimi, his hands shoved comfortably in his pockets.

"I suppose so," Mimi replied with a shrug. "I suppose she either told Taichi she must be bloated or she and Taichi never seemed to notice."

"Unless…"

She paused in her actions, twisting to look the blond in the eyes. "Unless what?"

Yamato paused, on the brink of saying something that he knew would be preposterous and out of character for Taichi. "No, never mind; I don't even know why I thought of it in the first place."

"Okay…" She turned back to her green onion.

There was a moment's silence. It was a nice silence, a peaceful one, unlike the stressed, tense ones that would normally fill a room after a conversation ended like theirs had. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him, comforting her, causing her muscles to ease and relax.

At the same time, her heart began to pound in anticipation as liquid heat began to pool between her thighs.

Damn it! Now was not the time to be thinking about sex.

"So…"

She twisted slightly at the sound of his voice, having just moved the green onion into a pile on the corner of the cutting board.

"Hm?"

He fiddled uncomfortably with the lapels of his dress shirt. The entire drive over, he had been wondering how he should break the news to her. He wanted it to come nice and slowly, but at the same time, he was bursting with the question, needing to know her answer. He hadn't even thought twice about his demand; he knew, deep down, that it was what he really wanted.

But the main issue was how to come about discussing it.

"I hear that Sora and Taichi are planning on getting married."

A little off topic, but at the same time, it was closer to the target than he had originally thought.

She shrugged, taking out the contents from the cooled pot, revealing the shredded cabbage that had been boiling for a short while. "I'm not really sure, to be honest." She paused while drying it, moving over to the other pot still on the stove, stirring the contents. "I think that they want to get married, but Sora said that, first, she wanted to move in with him."

This made Yamato mentally shout with joy and, at the same time, caused a cold, fist of fear to clench tightly around Mimi's throat. Any warmth, sexual or non-sexual, immediately left her body, leaving her feeling frigid and alone.

"So … I guess that leaves you and me alone then." Yamato tried to hide the excitement in his voice. He was getting closer and closer to the topic. But, at the same time, while joy filled him with happy warmth, he felt a cold sweat begin to form on his brow.

What if she said no? What if she decided that it was too early? What if he was moving too fast? Maybe she wasn't ready? What if this? What if that? There were too many questions, too many damn 'what if's.' How the hell was he supposed the answer to all of these questions ahead of time? They've technically only been dating for a short while, maybe two weeks; three…damn him, if he already lost count that wasn't a good sign for the future.

But, in the end, he knew that if she said no, if she refused his offer, then he would, in the end, be forced to accept and respect her decision. No relationship could be properly established if he forced her to come and live with him.

It just wouldn't work out.

So, if she said no, he would respect her decision and go back to his cold and empty bed, where he would lie for hours on end, wondering and thinking about her small, warm body.

She, on the other hand, was fighting back a different fear, but, in a sense, she feared the same thing as him.

Rejection.

Loneliness.

She had to think of something, anything else, aside from the long, lonely nights that were coming up. They were looming up, like the shadows that remained in the back of her mind, ready to consume her and eat away at her until she became gaunt and lifeless. The dark nights would unleash her nightmares, the nightmares that would torture her until she became an insomniac, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to do anything except sit on her bed, cradling her body in the darkness of the bedroom, fighting back a week of torture that felt like a lifetime of horror and pain.

But now … now she couldn't let him see the pain, see the fear that would glaze her eyes and caused tears to spill forth. She would have to put back on the mask, the mask of nonchalance, the mask that held every emotion except for fear, worry, pain, and loneliness.

She had to pretend, to imagine that she was strong, powerful, and that she was not afraid of living on her own. That way, he would not worry about her.

"Well, yeah, I'll probably move out and give Sora and Taichi the place." She turned slightly, waiting for his reaction. He arched a brow, prompting her to explain. "You see, this place is already mostly furnished, it has two bedrooms that are very close to one another, and it has a backyard. The neighbourhood is nice, and there is quite a bit of room here for raising a single child. So, I decided that, since the rent is good and the place is nice, I would move out and let them keep the place."

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, looking her over, noting the way her body tensed and how her words became suddenly clipped.

"But where would that leave you?" He needed to know her plans, know the answer, and, from there, he could begin to redevelop his question.

_Put the mask on. Put the damn mask on and don't let him see your fear. Don't let him see!_ Mentally, she pulled out a flesh coloured mask and placed it on her face, ensuring that she would show any emotion other than fear, worry, sadness, pain, and loneliness.

"I would live on my own. When the time comes, I'll find an apartment closer to downtown, maybe closer to my work. It would mean less traffic in the mornings." She forced a smile, and he noted the way it refused to reach her eyes. "I have more than enough money saved up to support myself, I would just have to buy a few extra pieces of furniture, and I really don't mind. I mean, giving them the apartment is a lot easier than having them find their own place while I stay here. The rent here is too high for me, anyways."

He watched the way she moved, listened to the way she spoke, and, using his amazing skills, he came to understand what she really wanted to tell him.

_Don't leave me alone, please…Don't leave me alone…I don't want to be alone…_

Now was the perfect time…

"Mimi-chan…" He moved forward, forcing her to move away from the stove, twirling her around in his arms to face him. He tilted her head up, gently holding her chin with his hand, his thumb rubbing her chin.

"Yamato-kun?" she whispered softly, gazing up at him in confusion.

"I know that we haven't known each other intimately for much time, but, well … considering the circumstances … I … Oh_, Kami-sama_, I love you Mimi-chan, I love you so damn much." He placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek. "Please, move in with me. I can't bear the thought of you on your own. Those nights when we slept together, when we practically lived together, they were the best days of my life. I want to wake up to your body; to your warmth…I wanted to hold you tight as I go to sleep…" He placed another kiss to her cheek. "I don't want to go home to an empty, cold bed anymore."

She blinked slowly once, and then a second time, as she began to slowly understand just what he was asking of her.

Had he really just asked her to move in with him?

Slowly, the fear began to ebb away from her body as warm joy began to replace the terror. She felt the mask fall away, landing soundlessly onto the floor by her feet, where she wanted it to forever remain.

He wanted her to move in with him…

He didn't want her to be alone…

She … she wouldn't be alone …

Her face broke into the brightest of all smiles, her eyes glowing like amber stars as a profound happiness filled her.

"Oh, Yamato-kun!" She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly to her body, hugging him as tightly as she could.

She didn't, not once, think about how they really barely knew each other. She didn't consider the fact that they had only been intimate for a few weeks, or consider the fact that they might be moving too fast. This was not a marriage proposal, it was not a suggestion to have children, it was the simple question of whether she wanted to move in with him or not.

In some other place, some other time, when she was still questioning her own feelings, she might have said no, or that she would consider it. But now, at this time and place, when she finally understood her feelings, when she knew that the words he said were sincere and beautiful, now that she knew that he really loved her, she knew that she could say yes without any second thoughts.

He grinned in response, hugging her tightly to his body as he continued to smile broadly. Never before had he felt happier. She had said yes, without a first thought, without even worrying about their situation. It was weird, it was strange, but it felt right, and that's all that was important.

He tilted her head back, giving her a celebratory kiss that went from chaste to intimate in a matter of milliseconds.

She found herself pressed against the counter, his mouth crushing down on hers, his tongue delving into the cavity to play with hers in an erotic dance. All thoughts ceased to exist, all notion of reality, the world around her, fell away as she thought only about his mouth on hers and his hands on her.

One hand gripped her thigh, pulling her pelvis to his, while the other delved into her tied back hair, trying to work the strands loose of the tight bun. He growled against her throat and rammed his hips against hers a second time. She felt his hardness rub against her center and she let out a mewling moan.

He pulled away from her lips, nipping at her neck with butterfly kisses mixed with sharp canines. Her hands gripped his hair in response, her head falling back as she gasped for air.

"Damn it … if I had known that you … oh, oh, yes, right … ah … if I had known that the idea of us moving in together would turn you on … oh shit … then I would have suggested it earli…ah!" She threw her head back and ignored the sharp pain as her skull made contact with the cupboard.

One of his roaming hands had managed to expose her breast, and as his tongue laved the nipple and his teeth teased the hardened peak, his free hand journeyed up her thigh to play with her moist center.

"Oh shit, Yamato-kun!"

He shifted upwards, his mouth once more on her throat, leaving red marks that he hoped would turned into little bruises. "Mimi-chan, everything about you turns me on." He teased her through her soaked panties, his fingers sliding up and down the slit before moving upwards to find the little, oversensitive pearl. He rubbed it softly, teasing it tenderly, and earned a sharp cry in response.

"Mimi, you're so damn wet … fuck, it's so fucking hot," he growled as his tongue teased the whorl of her ear.

She slowly began to hump against his hand, moaning, thinking of nothing else except for the wildfire that had spread from her abdomen to her entire body.

"Yama …" she gasped, her hands moving to grip the counter behind her.

Moving her panties aside, he slammed his fingers deep inside of her, finding that secret little spot that made her scream with pleasure as she convulsed around his fingers. The burning heat grew into a full-blown fire, consuming her entire body as she fell off the precipice and landed into an ocean of heated pleasure.

She gripped his hair, pulling him in for a heated kiss where their tongues fought for dominance and her teeth bit at his lips. One hand stayed against her wet center, teasing the folds, while the other succeeded in freeing her hair and grabbed the ebony locks.

One of her hands moved down, pushing up his shirt and began the process of unbuckling his belt. She bit his lower lip, causing him to groan with ecstasy and she sucked it into her mouth, sucking it to the point that it was nearly bruised.

The belt came away with ease, and she quickly unzipped him, lowering his pants enough so that she could finally hold the heavy, hot weight of him in her palm.

"Fuck me, Yamato-kun," she moaned, nipping at his Adam's apple before biting the side of his throat.

"Fuuuuck," he growled, fisting her panties before, literally, tearing them off of her.

Just as he lifted her weight onto the countertop, her legs spread wide with invitation, the alarm beeped twice, signaling that a door had been opened. They, however, were oblivious to the sound as he shoved up her skirt, rubbing the tip of his throbbing cock along her slit.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, Mimi. You're going to fucking scream," he growled, moving in for another heated kiss. "You're so nasty; you're such a naughty girl. You want me to fuck you, right? Say it … say that you want my fucking hard cock in your sweet cunt."

She couldn't bear it, the feel of him rubbing on her most sensitive part, his hands all over her, touching her, arousing her to the point that she felt she would break apart from the pleasure.

"Yama-kun! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! _Onegai! _Please!" She grabbed his head, kissing him roughly on the lips as he moved to enter her.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"OH MY GOD! Sora! Close your eyes! CLOSE YOUR EYES!"

"MY COUNTER!"

Mimi's eyes widened with shock at the sound of the familiar but foreign voices. Immediately, embarrassment welled up inside of her and threatened to spill out. A brilliant blush that was not at all caused by sexual thoughts covered her cheeks as she promptly lowered her face to Yamato's chest.

Yamato, on the other hand, twisted at the waist, moving in such a way that his tip entered Mimi.

As she fought back a moan of pleasure, he grinned at the brown-haired couple standing in the entryway of the kitchen.

"Hey Sora-chan, Taichi-kun. Good to see you out of the hospital." He grinned broadly. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes?"

* * *

"My counter …" Sora moaned, hands over her eyes, not even wanting to go back into the kitchen.

She stayed in the doorway, having turned around for a total of thirty seconds to let Mimi and Yamato gather and refresh themselves, before turning back around to find Mimi standing dutifully by the stove and Yamato rummaging through the fridge like he owned the damn place.

How could they possibly act so normal when they were so damn close to having sex just seconds ago?

She didn't get it.

Taichi placed a comforting hand on the small of her back, sensing her slight unease at the thought of the counter being defiled.

Damn it, it was the counter that they tended to put clean plates on…

"Mimi," Sora spoke after a second or so of tense silence.

Turning around, Mimi wiped her hands on her apron, having been in the middle of finishing up the _gyoza_.

"Yes?"

Yamato looked over from his spot in front of the fridge, having found a bottle of beer that he had immediately opened. He couldn't help but grin to himself, stuffing a hand in his pocket to feel wet lace.

Yes, Mimi's torn underwear currently occupied his left pocket, and he was hoping to be able to leave with the item without Mimi noticing. He was planning on jerking off to the smell of her sweet pussy once he got home.

He stifled a groan and focused his attention on the situation. They were in the kitchen and they now had company, company that he had wanted to throttle the moment they had screamed and interrupted what would have been the most amazing kitchen sex of his life.

_Kuso._

Mimi smiled softly at Sora, fighting back wave after wave of embarrassment. This was the second time in roughly a month that Taichi had caught her and Yamato in the middle of a sexual experience.

"Yes, Sora?" She kept her voice in a sickly sweet tone, trying to appear far more innocent than she had just a moment ago.

"Mimi, don't even try to use that tone of voice on me," Sora reprimanded, her voice stern.

Mimi wanted to giggle at how much Sora sounded like a mother scolding her children. However, she remained silent, wondering just what Sora might say to her.

Hopefully, it wasn't very embarrassing.

"Under the sink there's some cleaner for the counters, you know which one, right?"

"Yes…" _Uh-oh…Embarrassment Alert! Embarrassment Alert!_

"Well, I want you to clean the countertop that you and Ishida-san defiled."

"Why?" _Damn it, Tachikawa! You just had to ask why! Now the humilitation is going to be even worse!_

"Well, because your naked ass was all over it, that's why."

A brilliant blush covered her cheeks as she felt her face flame with embarrassment. Yamato had, conveniently, slipped out of the kitchen with Taichi, who were probably in the process of discussing the dirty details. '_Damn it, Yamato! You're supposed to protect me, not run away like a sissy!'_

She was going to make the man pay later.

Instead, she had to focus at the task at hand, which involved her appearing even more innocent and giving herself a sugary sweet tone of voice.

"But, Sora-chan, we barely got started. Besides, I was wearing the skirt, so, technically, my 'naked ass' was not on the countertop."

"But," Sora replied, "you still defiled my counter. I mean, _we eat off of it_! And you … oh, _Kami-sama_, you were doing THAT!"

Mimi sighed heavily, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that poor Sora had been stressed for the past few days. Maybe she should just stop trying to fight and give in; Sora had every right to be annoyed. If Mimi had been in her shoes, she would've bought a whole new counter.

"All right, I'll clean it once I'm done cooking supper," she gestured to the part of the counter in front of her, which was not the one they had 'defiled,' "on _this_ part."

"Good." Sora smiled. "So … what caused it?"

Mimi, who had turned back to folding the _gyoza_, choked on air and coughed several times over the sink, away from the food. Sora laughed as Mimi pounded her chest, fighting for some way to take in air without choking a second time.

"Damn it … woman …" she cursed, gasping softly once she managed to regain her breath.

"Yes?"

Since when did _Sora_ learn that sickly sweet voice?

"I'm going to kill you."

"Aw, now that's not very nice." Sora moved over to stand by Mimi, washing her hands quickly before offering to help.

Mimi paused, looking up at the woman before her, and focused all of her attention on Sora's appearance before accepting the woman's help. She was still unnaturally pale, but her cheeks were no longer sunken and the dark rings around her eyes had disappeared within the past week. Her lip had healed, while her nose still held the telltale signs of being broken. She noticed that Sora carried her right arm with care, holding it a little closer to her body, trying not to use it too often.

"Sora," Mimi's voice had softened, "you should go rest some more. Resting in a hospital is a lot different than resting at home. Home is more relaxing."

Sora smiled in return. "I guess you're right. It seems like you have things under control. Maybe I'll go watch some television." She patted Mimi gently on the head before turning to leave the kitchen.

Mimi blushed softly, her hand moving to her hair, which she, on contact, discovered was still an unruly mess. _'Damn it, Yamato.'_

Once she reached the door, Sora turned and smiled. "Of course, Mimi, Yamato-san is not allowed in the kitchen." She winked and disappeared, leaving Mimi torn between laughter and blushing.

* * *

They never had a chance to tell Sora and Taichi. Supper had gone on a bit longer than expected, and both Taichi and Yamato had to be at the station early the next for their weekly Homicide Meeting. This meant that they left right after dessert, leaving Mimi to clean up after them once she finished berating and bitching at Sora to go to bed.

It had taken her a good hour or so to clean all of the dishes, washing them until they were squeaky clean, and then managed to clear off any food from the floor and table, before, finally, being able to leave the kitchen.

She smiled to herself. The supper had been rather good. The _gyoza_ had turned out very well, in fact, and the miso soup had been delicious. She flicked off the kitchen lights, looking at the clean room, before making her way down the hallway. She double-checked the front door, and set the alarm, listening to the _beep, beep_, and then watched as the light went on.

Still smiling, she paused mid-step, one hand on the railing, as she thought about Yamato's proposal. The man was simply amazing. He had asked her to live with him even though they had been dating for a couple of weeks. Even though she, too, had been surprised at her response, she knew, deep down, that she was already ready to live with him. He made her feel so comfortable, so … whole.

Maybe that's why they called them soulmates. Because they were, as corny as it may be, the other half of a person's soul.

Just as she was about to walk up the stairs, she noticed the faint gleam of light on the railing and smiled in spite of herself.

'_I forgot to turn off the living room lamp.'_

Turning around, she headed into the living room, found the culprit, and immediately shut off the flow of electricity to it. Feeling childishly proud of herself, Mimi turned around.

And stopped.

Outside, it was pitch black; for some reason, the street lamps did not produce enough light for the front of the duplex to be even remotely lit up.

But it wasn't the lack of light that made her heart pound with fear.

It was the pair of eyes staring at her through the window and the gleam of the knife in the moonlight.

**Oh no! Another cliffy! Oh, how horrible!**

**So what, deal with it.**

**I suffered enough just trying to write this chapter. It was a bitch! I mean, I just couldn't figure out HOW to write it. I knew WHAT I wanted to write, but actually typing it was difficult.**

**Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed it and will be waiting on the edges of your seats for the next chapter.**

**Who is the killer in the dark?**

**What will happen to Mimi?**

**Did she end up cleaning the counter like she promised?**

**Will Yamato be left with blue balls for eternity?**

**Only I know, and you will only find out when you guys give me reviews and I post the next chapter!!**

**Constructive criticism is welcome (not abuse. Abuse is mean.)**

**Remember: 3 Reviews Next Chapter**

**Ja ne!**


	23. Numb Pain

**Chapter 23**

**Numb Pain  
**

Sora sat up in the bed, her heart pounding just as loud as the piercing alarm that wailed throughout the house. Her eyes darted around the dark room and she quickly reached over, turning on the bedside table lamp, pulling out her new gun at the same time.

What was going on? Why did the alarm suddenly go off?

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to push back the panic and think about what could have set it off.

She had heard a loud, crashing sound just milliseconds before the alarm decided to start screeching. Had Mimi broken a plate in the kitchen?

No, Sora began to panic; the sound had been far too loud.

She wanted to run downstairs, to check and make sure that Mimi was okay, but she wouldn't dare. She was too exhausted to fight, barely able to hold the gun for long, and she knew that she would just wind up getting hurt or getting Mimi injured.

She had to do what Taichi had instructed her to do.

Slowly, she slid out of the bed, keeping the gun aimed for the door, and quietly tiptoed her way over to the bedroom door. Reaching out, she quickly locked it and paused by the door, breathing deeply as she listened for footsteps outside of the door. Unfortunately, the screaming alarm deafened any other sound she might be able to, at any other time, hear.

Making her way over to the bedside table, she picked up her cell phone and dialed the first number that came to her mind, keeping the gun trained on the bedroom door. She knew that the window was locked and the blinds were shut; she had done those exact things before going to bed.

"Sora? What's wrong? What's that sound?"

"Tai…Taichi-kun…I think someone broke into the house…" She began to sob as the realization set in. Someone had broken into the house; they must have broken the bay window in the living room with something.

And Mimi…

"I don't know where Mimi is…"

Panic set in and she began to gasp for air, hyperventilating as Taichi tried to calm her down on the other line. But she couldn't calm down. Someone, some stranger, had broken into their house, again, and she had no clue where her best friend was.

Hot tears scaled her cheeks as they streamed down her face and she fell to her knees beside the bed, her entire body trembling as she sobbed into the phone.

"I think they took Mimi…I don't know where she is…Taichi-kun…Where's Mimi-chan?"

* * *

Yamato paused at the red lights, waiting patiently, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song currently playing on the radio. He had to admit that, at this moment in time, life was treating him very well. Not only had Mimi accepted his proposal, but she had done so with a smile on her face and without any hesitation whatsoever.

The lack of hesitation, the lack of confusion and questioning in her eyes had made him happier than he would have been had she just said yes.

She was happy to be with him; the idea of living with him made her so happy and the fact that she thought that way sent butterflies of excitement fluttering through his stomach.

Life, he had to admit, was great.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he cursed as he tried his hardest to fish it out. The light stayed red, turning green just as he answered it.

"_Moshi, moshi. _Ishida-san."

"Yamato, I need you to turn around and head back to Mimi's place."

"Taichi? What's going on? Why do I have to go back?"

"I'm already on my way back. Do you have a gun and your badge on you?"

Yamato sharply spun the wheel, doing a U-turn as he sped in the direction that he had just come in.

"Of course, I always have them on me."

"Good, you'll need them. Hurry up."

He shut his phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat beside him. Grinning to himself, he grabbed the little make-shift police light, put it on his dashboard and flicked it on, accelerating towards his destination.

But, the grin didn't last long as his worries were unearthed. Why did he have to go back to Mimi's house? Why was it necessary that he bring his gun and badge?

The worst possible scenario filled his mind, torturing him with images of Mimi's dead body, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, raped and sexually abused until her throat was slit and she was left to die. Sora was asleep, maybe she didn't even know until it was done, until the culprit had left and they would never be able to find him again.

No…that didn't make sense. A threat still had to be present if they were bringing their guns.

Was she being attacked right now? Was there someone in there, slashing at her body with a knife, taking her in the cruelest form of torture ever?

"Oh _Kami-sama, _please let Mimi be okay. I … I don't want to lose her."

The panic set in and his heart began to race. He almost lost all focus on the road in front of him, speeding along the streets, needing to get to her house as fast as possible.

He had to make sure that she was okay.

He had to tell her that he loved her.

He drove like a madman, weaving in and out of the cars on the road, speeding through stop signs and red lights, honking at anyone who didn't move out of his way in time. He had to make it back…He had to get back there before…Before…

Damn it, he couldn't lose her. He had no idea what he would do if he lost her. He would feel so empty, so useless; he wouldn't be able to smile anymore or laugh. He would see things in shades of gray.

She, he had to admit, was the light in his life. While he had to admit that before he had met her, life had been pretty good, once she had stepped into his life, with her bright smile and love-filled amber eyes, life had become perfect.

He couldn't imagine life without her.

He pulled in front of the house with a loud screech, skidding to a halt, and immediately dug out his bagde and gun from his glove compartment. He pocketed the badge and checked the gun, flicking off the safety as he swung the car door open and kneeled behind it, gun trained on the shattered window.

He could hear the alarm screaming in the night, saw the neighbours' lights come flickering on as they were woken by the shrieking sound. But, he kept his gun trained on the house.

Taichi pulled up beside him seconds later, swung his door open in the same fashion, gun out and focused on the house.

Both had completely forgotten about their women, thinking of them as civilians, needing to protect them with everything they had. They were the police, the enforcers of the law, the protectors of the innocent, and they had to make sure that these particular innocents would live.

"Let's go."

Yamato lead the way to the house, and they were barely aware of the two squad cars that appeared seconds later.

Taichi produced a spare key for the front door and quickly unlocked it. They moved to either side of the door, letting it swing open on its own and waiting a good three seconds before moving into the house.

Taichi quickly turned off the alarm and silenced filled the house. The darkness of the lower level was broken only by the flashing red and blue lights from the squad cars outside, and the four other policemen followed.

Yamato and Taichi flashed their badges, cursing themselves for taking that one extra second to go through procedure.

Quietly, they made their way through the house, first to the living room, before making their way down the long hallway to the kitchen, where the policemen gave Yamato and Taichi flashlights to see in the darkness.

Yamato lead the way upstairs, first checking Mimi's room, finding it empty, the bed untouched. Fear gripped at his throat. She hadn't even been to bed…Did that mean?

No, he had to push the thoughts aside and focus on checking out the rest of the house. Taichi came out from the bathroom, gesturing that it was all clear, before they made their way towards Sora's bedroom.

Taichi knew that Sora had to be okay; he had spoken to her less than five minutes ago. But the thought of Mimi, of how he had not come across her at all in their search, made his heart twist painfully with panic.

How could he tell Yamato that Mimi was missing and, most likely, injured or on the brink of death? If she had been kidnapped, their chances of finding the kidnapper were always low and, in most cases, the victims were found dead months later.

How would Yamato deal with it?

Yamato reached forward to open the door and arched a brow when he found it locked. Slowly, he knocked lightly on the door.

"It's the police, please open the door and come out." His voice was commanding, strong and loud, and Yamato had to admit that it surprised him. He had expected his voice to be quiet and trembling, holding fear within it.

"Ya…Yamato-kun?"

Taichi flung himself at the door, pressing his face to the side of it as panic raced through him.

"Sora! Sora-chan! Please, please open the door and let us in." Taichi wanted to pound on the door as alarm raced through him but he pushed it back. He had to push it all the way down, to shove it into a little crevice where it would never be able to escape.

He had to remain calm, not just for himself, but for Yamato, who was just about to learn that Mimi was missing.

That, he admitted quietly, was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

Slowly, they heard the lock click back and watched as the door edged open, revealing a pale-faced, wide-eyed Takenouchi Sora, one hand to her stomach, the other holding the gun Taichi had recently bought for her.

"Taichi-kun…" she choked out the words. That's when Yamato noted her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks.

His heart plummeted to the core of the earth.

"Where…Where's Mimi-chan?" His voice was cracking; panic was setting in.

Taichi was about to let him know slowly, wanting to take his time and let it settle in, but Sora sobbed out the next words.

"She's gone? Oh my … they took her! Whoever broke into the house took her, Taichi!" She wanted to fling herself forward, grab his shoulders and shake the brunet violently as real panic set in. "They took her! Find her! Please find her, Taichi! She can't…she can't be alone. Not again…" Sora slid down to the ground, leaning onto the doorframe for support, tears pouring out of her eyes. "Find her…find right away…find her before she goes to sleep…before the nightmares…she needs me because of the nightmares…please…"

Taichi slowly squatted in front of his lover, reaching forward to gently caress her cheek with the palm of his hand. He leaned forward, planting a chaste and gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sora-chan, I promise that we will find her. Now, I want you to go outside with this nice officer here," he gestured to one of the men beside him, "and you will explain everything to him while Yamato and I begin assessing the scene. Okay? When the ambulance arrives, you _will_ let Kouichi-san give you a relaxant, okay? Now I have to talk to Yamato-san."

Sora slowly nodded and Taichi watched as she left with Officer Nakagawa. He then signaled for the others to begin searching downstairs and blocking off the scene. He made a quick call to the CSI unit, called up Miyako and Ken, before finally turning his attention to his superior.

"Yamato…"

Yamato barely registered the words spoken around him. Everything had fallen silent, muffled, as though he was stuck in a thick fog and could not possibly find his way out. He wanted to move but couldn't find any way to move; his limbs felt heavy, his heart felt like it had been torn out from his chest.

It was almost as though the pain had, instead of an agonizing effect, a numbing effect on his entire body.

His mind, however, raced with various fears and thoughts, running through a myriad of scenarios that could have taken place. The statistics screamed at the back of his mind.

Most women kidnapped are found dead.

Months later…

Or they're never found…

The image of Mimi lying in a ditch somewhere, her body broken and abused, skin blue with cold as the November snow fell on her forgotten corpse, flashed through his mind.

The pain was unleashed, roaring through his like a violent wave, pushing away the fog, revealing a world of red where anger and fury fueled his agony. He felt as though his entire body was on fire, burning away at every last sane bit of him until the only thing left was a body consumed by pain.

She was gone…they had taken her…the bastards had taken her…

He was barely aware of the feeling as his knees hit the floor, his eyes staring lifelessly in front of him, unable to see anything but red.

They took her…She will never be found again…Oh, _Kami-sama_; she's probably being tortured and raped this very minute…_'I did nothing to stop them…_'

A roar escaped his throat, a primal roar that was filled with so much pain and anger that every person in the vicinity felt as though their very hearts were wrenched out. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, pushing aside the panic that would normally fill him, consuming him with an unbearable pain and inescapable feeling of hopelessness.

He had been useless…he hadn't been able to help his mother and now he wouldn't be able to help Mimi…

"Yamato-kun."

He was dimly aware of his name being spoken the second time, and his eyes slowly regained some focus as Taichi moved to squat in front of him. He barely registered the pain in the man's eyes, barely acknowledged the fact that his friend, his comrade, was also hurting at the loss of Tachikawa Mimi.

"She's not dead, yet." Taichi moved forward to grip his friend's shoulder in a brotherly fashion, eyes burning with the need for revenge. "You have to stop this, get out of the past, and remind yourself that you _can_ do something. Your mom died because the police officers searching for her were incompetent. You're not incompetent; you're the best fucking cop I know.

"We will find her, Yamato, that's a promise, and I won't sleep or eat until I know that she's safe in your arms again. Do you hear me? We won't stop until she's found, safe and alive, and then, you two can get married and have sex on counters whenever you want."

A strangled laugh left Yamato's mouth, his lips twitched, momentarily, into a faint smile.

Poor Sora…

But, he realized, Taichi was right. It wasn't the time to give up; for all he knew, she was still alive, praying for him to come and rescue her, and he _would_ come to her rescue.

He _had_ to save her.

Within seconds he had completely switched personalities. His eyes had hardened with seriousness as the cop took over. All emotions were pushed aside as he stood up, brushing himself off quickly before turning to Taichi.

"Tell the team to hurry the fuck up and gather everything they can. I want all of our specialists on this. Contact Koushiro-san and have him break into her files at her work. I want the file of every single client she's worked with for the past two months on my desk by the time I get back to the station. I want Ichijouji and Inoue here to survey the collection of data and I want Minamoto Kouji in charge of the CSI team. I want the best of the best on this case."

"But what about the other case?" Taichi followed Yamato as he made his way down the hallway and into the living downstairs. "That has priority right now, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does, which is why I want the best of the best." Yamato turned to Taichi as they stood in the main entrance. "This is the same case."

* * *

It smelt funny…

The smell was strange, unfamiliar, and it tickled her nose. It reminded her of old, of age, of moisture and dampness that was unwelcome, and it made her think of mold, stinking mold that was caused by the dampness.

It made her think of darkness, of solitude, of a place so detached from the outer world that it was black and would forever reek in the damp, unwelcome scent that defiled her nostrils.

It was almost familiar, she realized, but not as familiar as she had expected it to be.

But why? Why was it familiar but unfamiliar at the same time?

What was it that made her mind search through her memories, shuffling through the shelved and stored images until…

It slowly slid out of a dark corner of her mind, whispering to her, '_The difference is the lack of wind…'_

It was true; there was no breeze here, no way to dilute the powerful smell, but she knew that if there was a breeze then she would remember…

Remember what?

What did she want to remember?

How she got here?

What memory contained the smell?

What…

She couldn't think straight; her mind felt distorted, twisted, as though something within it was causing her thoughts to become entangled and confused.

What was the matter with her?

She tried to move and her body felt like she was in mud; it took a great effort just to lift her fingers, which felt like individual two ton weights. Eventually, with much exertion, she managed to move her arm.

_Clink. Clink._

What the hell was that sound?

It sounded like … chains…

Groggily, she opened her eyes and found nothing but darkness. The ceiling above her was lost in the vast blanket of black that consumed the area she was. But, once she opened her eyes, she became aware, almost as though whatever had messed with her mind was now disappearing at a rapid rate.

She felt the cool chain against her wrists, the cool metal pressing against her flesh, and she felt coldness against her back. Her head hurt, it ached, and she tried, in vain, to sit up.

Nausea raced through her and she just managed to roll onto her side before she vomited on the ground. Choking and spluttering, she coughed up the remaining fluid and nutrients from her stomach before falling onto her back, panting for air.

Damn it, what was wrong with her?

Her forehead burned and she groaned with pain as her stomach twisted into more knots of nausea. Fighting back the onslaught, she slowly lifted a hand to her head, touching the area the pain was the worst.

She winced with pain as her digits found a spot covered with moisture. Her fingers came back wet and she wondered if she was sweating that much. Her dress clung to her body, stretched taut against her flesh as though someone had dumped a bucket of water over her body.

She tentatively managed to sniff at her fingers and the coppery scent made the nausea return and panic race through her.

The memories came back in a rush. The eyes outside the bay window, the glass shattering, the man as he grabbed her and held her body, and then, as she screamed, darkness…

She sat up, the nausea completely gone as her breathing shortened and her mind raced with fear.

She'd been kidnapped…

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the darkness that was broken only by a small ray of light coming from under, what she assumed to be, a door. She was most likely chained to a wall and she could just feel the thin blanket lying on the ground beside her.

She felt rather thankful that she hadn't vomited on the blanket…

A panicked laugh bubbled out of her throat and her eyes glazed with a loss of sanity. Here she was, sitting in some dank and isolated basement, kidnapped and wounded, and all she could think about was how she didn't puke on a damn blanket.

The laughter was broken by sobs and she hunched over her body, pressing her head against her knees as she let out wailing sobs of fear.

She'd be kidnapped, taken away from the ones she loved, and she was completely alone.

She wanted to be melodramatic, to wonder why this had to happen to her again, but the fear that rushed through her system would not permit for her to think such thoughts. She couldn't even begin to formulate a plan of escape…

The memories were slowly leaking out of their locked chest.

"Oh _Kami-sama_," she moaned as the tears scalded her cheeks.

She was aware of a door opening and she had no clue if it was happening in real life or if she was recalling the memories. All she knew was that the creaking sound sent such fear into her that she let out a shrill, panicked scream.

_He_ was coming for her…he never finished his work, he never got to get his final result, and he was going to come and complete his work…

He would finish what he started…

A quieter, shaky scream bubbled out of her mouth as she rocked back and forth; begging for him to leave her alone, to not touch her, to please not hurt her…

"Please … go away … go away …"

"Well, I can't do that in my own home, can I?"

She screamed and jerked as far away as she could from the doorway, scrambling to her hands and knees, crawling as fast as she could until the chains jerked her and she fell to the ground in a heap.

Tears sprung to her eyes as her chin snapped against the ground and she felt the skin split.

He was coming … he could come to her and touch her…he would finish his job…

"Mimi-chan, I thought that you were better than this." The voice was coming closer and she scrambled back, pressing hard against the wall, keeping her eyes shut.

If she couldn't see him then he didn't exist…

"Mimi-chan…"

She blocked out of his voice; if she couldn't hear him then he didn't exist…

A cool hand touched her flushed, tear-stained face.

A whimper left her throat as she recoiled from his touch.

If she couldn't feel him then he didn't exist…

But he did exist and this situation was real. She could smell him, his strangely familiar cologne, and she could feel his presence near her body.

He existed and this situation was real…

But it wasn't the same…it wasn't the same smell as last time…it wasn't the same touch, the same voice…things were different…

Could things be…better…this time?

No, she reminded herself, things would never get better. If she thought that then she was living in some naïve little fairy tale world.

"Mimi-chan, look at me," he whispered.

She kept her eyes firmly shut, still trying to tell herself that he couldn't exist, that he was just a figment of her imagination, a tidbit of her past that was only part of a memory.

He doesn't exist…He doesn't exist…He doesn't…

Her eyes opened wide with shock as he roughly grabbed her chin, digging his thumb into her fresh wound, forcing her to face him. A scream bubbled out of her throat as he twirled his thumb around in the wound and tears poured out of her eyes.

At the same time, however, recognition filled the eyes glazed over in pain and slowly she realized that this was not a memory.

It wasn't the same man…

"Y…you…"

He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. "Of course it's me, Mimi-chan; I've been waiting for this for a long time."

* * *

The files were waiting for Yamato when he got back, having been accessed, read, and printed within ten minutes due to the outstanding hacking skills of Izumi Koushiro. Of course, this was thanks to the Commander, who pulled several strings in order to get a warrant set up within a matter of minutes.

Yamato read through the list, highlighting several names, including Shibayama Junpei's, before barking out orders to Taichi.

"Detach my bulletin boards, you take one, I'll take the other, and we meet in the Conference Room 2 in ten."

Within seconds, the two bulletin boards, covered with information and data concerning the murder case, was set up in Conference Room number 2, and Taichi was rushing out to make several phone calls to various officers and members of the squad to tell them of the meeting. Yamato, all the while, was heading for the CSI lab, wanting to get as many answers from Kouji as possible.

He walked down the pristine grey hallways, glancing from room to room, noting the glass walls and various labs composed of a lovely mix of science and technology. He passed several people along the way and did not even knock once he reached the door labeled Minamoto Kouji. He opened the door and found the man sitting at his desk, looking over some papers at a rapid pace.

"Got anything?"

The dark-haired man looked up and Yamato's gaze met the man's piercing, indigo one.

"Yeah, we do."

"Tell me, quickly, and then you can inform the rest of the team in Conference Room 2 in," he looked at his watch, "8 minutes and 33 seconds. Make it quick; I have other people to see."

Kouji smiled at the Lieutenant. "Well, Boss, seems like we managed to find a couple of blood samples left behind at the crime scene along with a few hairs. Only one has a root still attached, so we've gotten pretty lucky."

"The blood samples belong to whom?"

"There were two, actually, and I should be getting the report in…" Almost as though on cue, the printer roared to life and spewed out several papers covered in writing and blood cell make-ups. "Thank _Kami-sama_ for our technological advances," Kouji sighed softly, pulling out the papers and reading over them quickly.

"The first belongs to the victim, Tachikawa Mimi, while the other is unknown." He sighed heavily before handing the papers over to Yamato. "Damn it, I really wish that we had some way to get everyone's blood sample in this damn database. It would make our job a lot quicker."

"I can make the job even faster."

Yamato spun around, facing the man that had quietly entered the room, and had his gun out in less than a second, safety off and cocked for shooting.

"Who are you?"

He vaguely recognized the man by the door, noting the expensive suit and the dark, piercing eyes of the stranger. He was cool and calm, almost as though he had expected Yamato to react in such a manner.

"To keep it short, we'll just say that I'm someone who's had enough."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Yamato," Taichi's head was suddenly thrust into the room over the shoulder of the unknown man, "we should get the conference started right away; everyone's there."

Yamato nodded quickly and ignored Taichi's questioning look about the man at the door. Instead, he gestured for Kouji to follow and grabbed the man by the arm as he marched down the hallway.

"I don't know who the fuck you are but you're coming with me." His eyes flashed dangerously. "And you better have something real fucking important to say or I'm arresting your ass."

"And for what reason would I be arrested?" The man's calm voice was beginning to get on Yamato's nerves.

"For annoying the fuck out of me," Yamato retorted.

They reached the conference room and Yamato glanced in quickly before turning to the man. "I don't care who you are, I don't care if you're some political person or whatnot, you will not speak in this room, and I swear to _Kami-sama_ that if I hear one word, one rumour, that you told any outsider about what we will be discussing, I will have your ass arrested in seconds. Understood?"

"Why are you even letting me come in?"

"If you're sneaky enough to get into the crime lab then getting into the conference room would be a breeze for you. Besides, you don't look like a dumbass." Yamato turned and pulled the man into the room with him. "You stay in this corner and don't say a damn word."

The man nodded silently and did not protest as an officer was ordered to stand by him and guard him.

Yamato began the meeting quickly, giving out as much data as he could.

"The first murder began with Ita Hiro and Yoshite Sakura on 17/09/14 at Erotika's. The next murder took place at Dungeon's; the victims were Sato Mamoru and Horata Rumiko, on 27/09/14. By roughly the fourth murder, we managed to set up a pattern. He would hit the clubs in a specific order, Erotika's, Dungeon's, and then Cruella's. Also, the type of female he kills is specific; all the women murdered had dark hair, dark eyes – mostly brown – and they all had roughly the same build and height. He is very good at not being caught; while the murders are messy there is not one trace of him left behind.

"I have reason to believe that he is shaved; he probable shaves his whole body to prevent any hairs from falling. I also believe that he does not work alone. It would be difficult for just one person to subdue two people at the same time, particularly since all males killed were composed of a good amount of muscle and were tall. So, we're looking for at least two people.

"I have further reason to believe that he attempted to commit a murder following his pattern. Before the murders of Honda Hizumi and Ando Michiru, he attempted to kill a woman outside of Cruella's."

Yamato paused at this moment, fighting back the sudden onslaught of memories involving Mimi. He swallowed thickly and looked down at the various members of his squad. Miyako sat near the back, beside Ken, with a recorder out, but still taking notes on that damn pad of paper of hers. Kouji stood nearby, leaning comfortably against a wall, while Koushiro sat nearby, his laptop open, running through various files and scenarios. Jenrya was even present, there to give any pertinent information concerning the corpses.

He really had the crème de la crème of the police department.

His eyes then fell on Taichi, who stood beside him, more for support than for the discussion, and he never wanted to hug the man more than he did now. Taichi's eyes glowed with such power, so much pain and worry, that it nearly made tears spring to Yamato's eyes. But it wasn't the hurt that hit him; it was the sheer determination, the look in Taichi's eyes that told Yamato that his friend would never stop until they found her.

Swallowing thickly, Yamato knew that he had to say her name and face reality.

"Tachikawa Mimi was a victim of that attempt; she survived with only cuts and bruises. But we all made a mistake. Because she was alone, we were under the understanding that it had just been a case of attempted rape. What we forgot to do was note that she fit the description of the killer's pattern. I can only assume that she was his target the entire time; she was the only person he attacked alone. Furthermore, Tachikawa-san has now gone missing.

"This is the reason that we are having this meeting. Tachikawa-san is his final victim and we must find him and stop him as soon as possible. We have some blood samples, one of which is the victim's, the other of which is unknown. Our hair sample is currently being examined in the CSI Lab," Kouji nodded, "so, what I need all of you to do is start investigating her coworkers and going through information concerning every patient of hers."

He began listing off duties to several police officers and Koushiro's subordinates, giving them specific tasks, before turning to Miyako and Ken.

"I want you two to get a damn warrant for Shibayama Junpei and bring him the fuck in. He's been avoiding our meeting for a long time, so it should be easy. If you can't find anything on him, or if it looks like he's lying, arrest him for obstruction of the law. Then we'll see if he talks."

"Lieutenant Ishida-san, all of this won't be necessary."

All heads turned towards the voice, silence thickly falling in the room as every eye fell on the stranger at the back of the room. He smiled, flashing white teeth, and his indigo eyes glowed with intellect.

"And what makes you think that?" Yamato barked, his own eyes flashing with annoyance.

The man's smile twitched. "Because, like I told you earlier, I've had enough." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I know where you can find Tachikawa-san and I know who has her."

* * *

She lay on the ground, panting heavily from the abuse her body had just sustained. It hadn't taken her long to realize that he relished in her screams and she quickly managed to keep her mouth shut for as long as she could.

Her common sense, her instinct, and her intellect were quickly returning the more she allowed him to hurt her. The more she hurt the more she began to realize just how real the situation was.

This wasn't some distant memory of a horrid past; this was fact, it was real, and it was happening at this very moment in time. It wouldn't matter how many times she told herself to wake up, it didn't matter how much she tried to say that it was a dream, every time he hurt her, every time he made her bleed, a little bit more of her realized that this was not a dream.

She choked back several sobs of pain as she shifted, her leg twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Never before in her life had she ever thought that she would suffer such horrendous torture. At least, she had hoped that it wouldn't happen a second time.

Now she would be hoping that it wouldn't happen for a third time.

At least, she thought, he hadn't decided to rape her.

Yet.

The panic began to rush through her once more and she pushed it back as hard as she could. She couldn't panic anymore…she wouldn't let him get to her…but…but it was so hard not to fall back and cry and scream.

But…he suggested that he might have Sora. She couldn't…if she panicked and got herself killed then where would that leave Sora? Sora might be killed, too.

She couldn't have that, especially since Sora was carrying a baby. She wouldn't let herself be the cause of Sora and Taichi's unborn child's death.

Moving, she let out several gasps of pain as she shifted to a more comfortable position. Sitting against the wall, she hunched forward, her forehead pressed to her thighs, letting out quiet moans of pain as it filled her body.

Whimpering softly, she sat back, pulling up her skirt to see her flesh torn open by the side of her right kneecap. She coughed on bile as she caught sight of white bone under all the blood and torn tissue.

Turning her head to the side, she leaned over as far as she could as she let out dry heaves, trying to stop her stomach from revolting against her. But she couldn't stop it; her body was trying to get the rest of the drug – for she must have been drugged – out of her system so that she could think coherently through the pain and panic.

But it was so damn hard.

Sitting back she pressed her hands to her eyes, feeling hot tears gush down her cheeks once more as she let out mewling sounds of pain and fear.

What was she going to do?

She was stuck here, chained to the damn wall, in this isolated, damp, and dark basement in this unknown location. She didn't have a phone, no beeper, not one single way of letting the outside world know where she was.

The panic began to set in once more as she dimly realized that Yamato would probably arrest the wrong man.

She wanted to scream, wanted to throw her head back and shout to the heavens and pray that someone other than the kidnapper would hear her.

Yamato…

_'You're going to arrest the wrong man! It's not him! It's not Shibayama-san! God damn it!'_

No, it couldn't be him; he wasn't the man who had just tortured her. It was someone else, someone she had thought had changed, and someone she had long suspected of doing some illegal action or another.

She had never thought, however, that he would do this. She thought that they had made progress, that he wouldn't do anything like this, that…

No, she realized, they had never made progress. He hadn't wanted to make progress. He had kept her outside, pushed away from him, in order to continue his actions.

In order to get close to her.

"_I watched you. I watched every little thing you did. I watched you as you dressed, watched you when you sleep, and watched you every single time you touched yourself. I even watched you with that man…That despicable piece of shit. Yeah, well, he's gone…you're mine now. You'll be my whore now, and I will fuck you and…"_

She didn't even move to side as she gagged again, knowing that nothing would come up. Within the past two hours she had released the entire content from her stomach onto the ground in the room. The room stank of vomit and mold, further increasing her nausea as she tried to forget the disgusting words the man had spoken to her.

But it was so damn hard…

She was going to be raped, she knew it. If she stayed for a few more hours, by the time the sun rose her body would be desecrated, sexually assaulted and lying in some ditch somewhere far away.

And he would get away because Yamato would arrest the wrong man.

She closed her eyes and let out more wailing sobs as the calamity of the situation hit her. She would never be freed, she would die in this dark little place, alone, while the man touched and raped her. She would never be able to fall asleep in Yamato's arms, never be able to hold Sora's baby, and she would never be able to have a child of her own. She would stay here, even years after her body had decomposed, and she would be stuck in this dark place for the rest of time.

She would never be able to tell Yamato just how much she loved him. She would never be able to hold his hand, to feel his warm embrace as they held each other in some remote, romantic location, and she would never be able to walk down the aisle and see him standing at the alter, smiling down at her with raw love.

'_Yamato,'_ she sobbed, '_help me…please…even if you're a bit late…just don't let me die alone…'_

**Chapter's done.**

**I'm hoping that I somehow managed to make people cry with my ending. I know I almost did but I was a bit distracted at the time, so yeah…**

**Sorry it took me so damn long, but I'm currently trying to WoW it up. I have to get to 70 in a few weeks (I'm at lvl 64), and I'm back at school for two weeks for a French Intensive (yay for class straight from 9:30am to 3:00/3:30 pm!!)**

**Anyways, I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter. I'm already beginning to write the next so don't worry!!**

**My review/post rule still applies, and PLEASE correct me if you see any mistakes!!**

**Thank you!**

**Ja ne!**


	24. 30 Minutes

**Chapter 24**

**30 Minutes**

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this shit earlier?"

"Because you seemed rather occupied and you specifically told me to keep my mouth shut."

"For fuck's sake, do you always take what people say literally? I would punch you in the face right now if I didn't owe you a shitload of expensive shit right now."

"You won't owe me anything, Lieutenant, only a deal."

Yamato stopped in his tracks, pausing in the hallway to spin around to face the man standing behind him. He stared into the indigo eyes, noting that the man casually pushed his glasses up his patrician nose with a long finger.

"What kind of deal?" Yamato's eyes narrowed in suspicion, completely ignoring the cops that moved around him, rushing to their vehicles or heading to gather the bulletproof gear and guns.

Tonight, they would be raiding a school.

The man crossed his arms, smiling up at the Lieutenant. "Well, Lieutenant, once we have them arrested, I will not mind setting up a deal with you. Like I've said several times, I've had enough with the situation at hand and just want it to stop. I have been involved," he admitted, "and I will take any punishment that the judge deems fit for me."

Yamato arched a brow, frowning down at the man. "So, you're telling me that you will set up the deal _after_ we capture the criminals? How do I know you're not setting up some kind of trap?"

The man produced a small tape recorder from his pocket, the grim smile still in place on his otherwise lovely face.

"This will let you know that it's not a trap, Lieutenant." He pressed the "Play" button and voices came out of the recorder.

"_We have to act soon. I don't want to fool around anymore; I'm sick of those pathetic people, those useless women and their stupid ways to fight back. I want to go after my target."_

A sudden silence filled the hallway as everyone on the team stopped in their tracks, listening to the recorder as it produced more and more evidence against the men recorded on the tape.

"_What do you mean?"_

_"What I mean is that we have to go after _her. _In a couple of days, we'll get her and take her, we'll bring her to the hideout and, there, I will make her mine."_ Yamato felt his stomach clench nervously. "_She will fucking pay for everything that she ever did to me and I will make her know that she will always be mine."_

The man clicked the recorder off and looked at the Lieutenant, noting the raw pain in the man's eyes. He wanted to help the man. He had long ago decided not to interfere, but, when he caught sight of her body, tied up and already abused, lying in the cold basement, his conscience took over any previous thoughts he had established.

He couldn't stand back and watch anymore. He couldn't just sit back and listen to her screams as his 'boss' tortured her. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let this woman be tortured and abused to death.

"Lieutenant," he sighed softly, looking up at the man, "my name is Kido Jyou and I have been involved with the "BDSM Murders" since the third one. The man in charge, who goes by the alias Haru, has been paying me large sums of money to hide the incriminating video tapes."

Yamato turned to man, confusion glowing in his eyes.

What the hell…had this man just confessed in being involved with the murders…? This…club owner?

"At first I felt that it was a good business proposition; hide the tapes and get money. It was a good way to make profit. I was barely involved and did what was asked of me. But after a while, it became a bit…bothersome. Hiding the tapes was always a nuisance, especially since it required for me to go through every tape and ensure that every piece of evidence was removed.

"Of course, I did leave a few with some evidence. I gave them to Tachikawa-san, hoping that you would get the hint that one of my guards was involved in the murders. So I suppose that, in a sense, I was partially obstructing justice." He smiled calmly. "But, in the end, I had it all figured out. I realized that I couldn't let it go on." The smile reached his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, Jyou genuinely smiled, even if it was a sad one.

"I realized that Tachikawa-san is too beautiful of a person to die."

Yamato slowly nodded in agreement but his eyes still held a hard, cold glow that would have normally made any other man quake in his boots. Jyou, on the other hand, gave him a knowing look, understanding that he would still be punished for his crimes. But, as their silent deal was made, his time in prison would be much shorter, but still deserving.

Yamato turned to face the men and women that had stopped in their tracks. Taichi appeared down the hallway, signaling for Yamato to hurry up. Yamato exhaled loudly and his body tensed in anticipation.

"What are all of you doing standing around? Hurry the fuck up, get dressed, and let's get going!"

There was a rush, a hustle and a bustle as everyone jogged to their designated spots, stripping off shirts to put on bulletproof vests, checking ammo, or assuring that the vehicles were properly set up. Half of the squad would be coming in with Yamato, while the other half remained on the outside; searching for any sign that someone was coming out of the building.

Yamato opened the barrel of his gun, checking to make sure that it was fully loaded, before tucking the Police Issued Colt .45 into his hostler. As he went through the procedure, checking his gear, making sure that everything was set up right and nothing would fail, he thought about what they would have to do when they got to the location.

They would need to split into groups; they were not too familiar with the layout of the old school. Jyou had informed him that it wasn't too big, just a small elementary school, half of which had burnt down a while ago. He said that there was only one floor and a basement and that they were keeping her in the basement.

Yamato figured that they had probably chosen a very cliché location on purpose and would have further chosen a cliché room in the basement. Or maybe they wanted him to think that so he spent hours searching every single classroom until he found them in some broom closet or an old playroom with the toys still intact.

He shuddered at the thought of her lying amongst those toys, her body naked and abused, broken and bruised, completely lifeless, while her life blood soaked the carpeted ground under her body.

Pain wrenched through him and he found himself falling backwards, landing hard on the ground as an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and agony tore through his body. He didn't hear the primal growl of pain that left his mouth and he was barely aware of the cops that now stood around him.

All he could see was her body…her smiling face disappearing, fading away until all he saw was pain and blood. He couldn't…he couldn't let her die…but…what if they were too late? What if the man didn't torture her? The killer had already proven that he was quick with his work; he took less than an hour to sexually assault, beat and abuse his victims before killing them.

What if Mimi was already dead? Then…then this would have been for nothing…

"Lieutenant?"

No…no…he couldn't…he couldn't stop…he wouldn't stop…not until he found her…not until he held her just one more time…

If it was too late…if she was dying…he would get there before she died…

He would hold her, he would kiss her, he would tell her how much he loved her…

He wouldn't let her die alone, without love.

He would hold her and love her and tell her how much she meant to him.

Then, once he kissed her one final time, once he told her he loved her for the last time, then he would hold her as her life ebbed away. Only then would she die…

Warm arms embraced him and he was dimly aware of a female body pressed against his. He swore that he saw her smiling at him, could have sworn that she winked at him and told him that everything would be all right.

"Yamato-san."

The voice…the voice didn't belong to her. It was someone else's…someone familiar.

Slowly, he was brought back to reality, catching sight of purple-black hair and wide brown eyes.

"Miyako-san…"

"Yamato-san," she murmured, cupping his face in her delicate but strong hands, "I promise that we won't let her die. Our mission, the reason we exists, is to stop her from dying. Please…realize that. Come back to us. I promise you that she won't die."

"You…you promise?"

"Yamato-san, you're our leader. You're the best and smartest out of all of us. We will follow you no matter where you go or what you do. We know that you will do all you can to stop her from dying, and I know that we will try our hardest to stop that from happening."

He nodded slowly, the confused, disoriented glaze fading from his blue eyes, and she smiled at him.

"Now, Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing sitting on your ass?" She stood up; regaining the role of a strong and tough cop. "This is a fucking break. Get off your ass and lead us!"

"Right!"

* * *

_Clang._

What…what was that? Oh god, oh god, oh god…he was coming back…

Her heart raced in fearful anticipation as she heard the telltale signs of footsteps outside of the heavy door. She let out a whimpering cry of terror as she heard the lock being undone and moved as fast as she could away from the door.

He was back…

_'Yamato, where are you? Please…please help me…'_

She crawled as fast as she could away from the door, moaning in pain as her wounded knee scrapped against the damp concrete floor. Panting for air, she turned her head towards to door, trying to see just how close the man was to her, and stopped.

"But…but…" she whimpered, eyes widening with fear and confusion.

The man slowly stepped in the room, shutting the door quietly, before making his way over to her. It was a difficult task but he somehow managed to lower his large frame into a squat in front of her. His brown eyes were with a cold sadness.

"S…Shibayama-san…?" she choked. "But…but…you and him…you were both…?"

She felt sick; fighting back the nausea as the reality of the situation truly came crashing down on her. Nothing made sense. Why was Shibayama-san here? What was going on? Were they working together? What did any of this have to do with her?

Where the hell was Yamato?

He smiled sadly at her and she flinched when he moved his hand. He withdrew, noting the panic in her eyes, the way she let out whimpering screams every time he made the slightest movement. She knew what to expect, what might happen…She had, after all, been through a similar situation before.

He moved forward once more, ignoring her flinches and whimpers, and caressed her cheek softly with his hand.

She shuddered with pain and fear, squeezing her eyes shut as she anticipated a violent smack or a punch to the face. Shock made her eyes open wide when he caressed her cheek, her mouth opening in a small 'O' of perplexity as he trailed his thumb along her cheekbone.

Then, the fear overwhelmed her a second time as she considered the possibility that he was here to rape her. He was strong enough to hold her down, powerful enough to keep her subdued and probably big enough to cause her ample amounts of pain.

Shrill cries left her throat as she moved violently away from his hand, groaning in pain as her head smacked against the concrete wall behind her.

Fighting back the stars that filled her vision, she barely had a chance to move away when he gripped her chin, tilting her head up in his attempt to force her eyes to meet his.

She squeezed her eyes shut, instead, trying to will the image of her patient out of her mind. There was no way that such a kind and sweet man could be behind such brutal violence. There was absolutely no way that he could have been involved in such criminal acts.

It was all wrong…

She was dreaming; she had to be dreaming because none of this made sense to her.

A small cry of pain left her lips as he increased the pressure on her jaw, his fingers and thumb bruising her already discoloured flesh, putting as much pressure on the sensitive skin as he could to cause her just the right amount of pain.

It was the pain that pulled her out of her daydreams. It was the pain that always made her realize that things were more real than she was willing to accept. It was always the pain that pulled her out of it; the pain was always real.

But still, she wanted to keep her eyes shut. She didn't want to accept reality; if she accepted reality then she would be forced to face her demons and she didn't want to face her demons just yet. They were too powerful.

"Mimi-chan."

His voice…it sounded so soft…so kind…it was almost…what was the word? Deceptive? Deceitful? Fake?

She couldn't think coherently and couldn't put her finger on just what his voice made her think of. All she knew was that when she heard it, her eyes flung open.

Her eyes then widened as she was hit, for the millionth time, by the true reality of the situation. Perhaps it was only now, at this particular moment in time, that she truly accepted the realness of the circumstances. Beforehand, there had always been that dim glimmer of hope, that small wish that maybe this was unreal and she was dreaming. But now, as she stared into the cold, sad eyes of the man before her, she fully accepted that she was in deep shit.

"Mimi-chan." His voice was as sad and cold as his eyes, far different from the passionate, yearning voice of the man that she thought she knew.

She needed to know…she just had to know…

"W…why Shi…Shibayama-san?" she whispered hoarsely. She had only been there for a few hours, maybe five at the most, but she felt like she had gone days with water. Perhaps it was all the screaming that she had been doing…

He smiled coldly at her, the grin barely reaching his dull, brown eyes, and his grip loosened just a bit on her chin.

"Mimi-chan, I should be asking you the same question." He rubbed his thumb along her flesh, sending frissons of nausea and terror racing down her spine and throughout her body.

"Why did you do it, Mimi-chan? You knew that it was wrong, so why did you do it? You know that you've been very bad. Very, very, bad." His voice fell to a malicious whisper as his mouth moved closer to her face.

Her body began trembling uncontrollably, her heart racing with fear, pounding against her ribs with such fervor and strength that she feared the bones by snap and shatter.

He pressed his lips to her sweat-soaked forehead and she whimpered, letting out a soft cry of pain as though his touch had scalded her skin. His tongue flicked out, trailing slowly along her flesh, and she fought against his grasp, ignoring the pain as his grip tightened on her jaw.

"Strange…Mimi-chan, you don't taste like a whore. So, why is that you always act like one? Why did you do it? If you're such a slut, why did you think you had the right to say no?" He licked her forehead a second time, savouring the flavour of sweat and blood on his tongue, a salty, coppery combination that made his body vibrate with arousal. "You taste like a woman, Mimi-chan. You taste just like a nasty, dirty woman."

"And that means that you're supposed to act like one, Mimi-chan."

Her head spun at the sound of the other man's voice, her eyes falling on the man by the door, clad only in a robe and in the process of locking the old metal and wooden door shut. He turned slowly around and she stared into his cold, dark, beady eyes with fear glazing her whiskey ones.

"Ah, Hida-san," Junpei spoke, slowly getting to his feet and going over to his comrade.

Hida Iori looked up at the tall man beside him, adjusting the belt of his robe, shifting in such a way that she saw that one of the pockets was laden with something heavy. But, she barely registered that thought for a moment later Junpei was taking off his own shirt.

Her eyes widened with shock and fear and she pressed herself against the wall, trying to find some way to go through it and disappear for the rest of eternity.

They weren't…

Were they?

Oh, _Kami-sama_, please no…anything but _that_.

While Junpei stripped down to his boxers, Iori was slowly making his way over to head, an arrogant swagger added to every step he took.

He stopped in front of her, grinning maliciously down at her bruised form, eyes glowing with cruel intentions.

"Mimi-chan, all you had to do was say yes the first time." He reached down and savagely grabbed her hair, yanking her head up as she cried out in pain. "All you had to do was just listen to me." He pulled her head back, exposing the line of her throat as Junpei made his way over. "All you had to do was act like the bitch you are."

He let go of her hair, letting her relax for barely a second before his hand made contact with her face in a rough slap. Junpei smiled down at her from beside his partner, shamelessly rubbing himself through the material of the underwear.

She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out; knowing that making any sound of pain would simply worsen the situation for her. She had to do everything she could to stop herself from expressing her agony; it would stop them from becoming aroused and, possibly, prevent rape.

He grabbed her hair again, kneeling in front of her body this time, while Junpei roughly grabbed her shoulders, pushing her far enough away from the wall for him to seat himself behind her. Then, digging his nails into her skin, he yanked her roughly back against his front. She let out an involuntary whimper as she felt his obvious erection against the small of her back.

She couldn't help it; she began to fight against his grip, moving wildly, trying everything she could to escape from his bruising grasp and Iori's hold on her hair. She roared fiercely as tears poured down her cheeks, her heart racing with panic while her lungs seemed to stop working altogether as a minor panic attack began to set on.

She panted for air, moving as hard as she could, trying with all her might to make them let her go.

A cool blade was pressed against her throat.

All movement stopped.

Panting for air, her eyes met Iori's and he smirked viciously. "I would stop moving if I were you, sweetheart." His grin twitched and increased in size. "Then again, if I were you, I wouldn't be such a fucking slut." His eyes turned to Junpei's. "Hold her still."

Panic filled her eyes, no longer just a fleetingly powerful sensation but an overwhelming, powerful sense of helplessness that consume her entire being.

The blade against her throat began a lazy trail downwards, stopping at the top of her dress. Iori's grin became maniacal.

"You're such a whore. You even dress like one." He lowered the blade and, holding her dress with his free hand, began the process of cutting through the material. "Let's see what you have on under this, hm?"

She wanted to keep fighting, to try her hardest to push the two men away from her and run away as fast as she could. But, no matter how hard she fought, no matter whether she, somehow, managed to kill them or not, she would never escape. The damn metal wrapped around her wrists made sure of that.

So, all she could do was whimper and cry, trying to push away reality long enough to imagine a scenario where she could escape.

* * *

"When we get there, we go immediately into S.W.A.T. formation, understand? I know that some of you haven't undergone S.W.A.T. training, but everything will be very simple and straightforward."

"Why didn't we just call the S.W.A.T. unit?"

Yamato's cold eyes met warmer brown ones and he frowned at the man who had the gall to ask such a question.

"Because, A) about half of us have had S.W.A.T training, which has become a requisite in order to join the police force, and B) we really don't have time to sit down and twiddle our thumbs while we wait for them to show up."

He stood up in the back of the van, pacing back and forth, looking around at the teammates who would be joining him in the raid. Taichi stood at the door, his gun poised and ready, waiting patiently for Yamato to complete his discussion so that they could begin their raid.

"First off, we have already divided you guys into two groups, which are an equal mix of officers who had done S.W.A.T. and have not done S.W.A.T. training. Half of you will be coming with me and will be then divided into further teams, following the lead of myself, Detective Yagami or Detective Ichijouji. The other half will remain behind with Officer Izumi, who will be in charge of the 'watcher' part of the team. Those who remain behind will be asked to station themselves along the perimeter and keep watch for any unwanted trespassers or anyone exciting the building.

"In order to know whether the person is friend or foe, there will be an identification check on the person. If there is no response, shoot to harm, not kill, even if you think that it is a member of the squad. Go for the legs or arms, that way they can't hold a weapon and won't be able to run far before two men from the van come and collect the person. Understood?"

"L…Lieutenant…does this mean that not everyone will be placed at strategic points on the perimeter?" This came from a relatively new but very talented recruit at the back.

Yamato nodded. "Exactly. I want a few people back here in the van as surveillance for the entire group. In everyone's communicator there is a special tracking device." Yamato pointed around the technologically updated van, gesturing to several screens along one side. "Those screens will show everyone just who is where. This way, we can assure that someone from our squad doesn't stray from the group or decide that they want to go home early. If they do, then they can stay home."

Yamato looked around the group, eyeing every single individual before him. He felt like he was in some kind of war zone, establishing a certain set up to capture the enemy's base. But, he had to remember, the enemy had a hostage. Or maybe more than one hostage; for all he knew, the basement could be littered with rooms filled with captives, alive and dead.

So, he stood before everyone, eyeing every single officer like he was a General eyeing his soldiers before combat. He knew that this was something they normally did not do; police officers were not necessarily sent out to retrieve captives without S.W.A.T. or FBI members. But…they really didn't have enough time to wait for the specialized officials to arrive.

"I have set up a time limit. We have thirty minutes to get in, grab her and arrest the sick bastards. Tachikawa-san has already been in there for roughly five to six hours." To add to his point, he gestured to the tainted back window of the van, through which they could see the sun rising. "I want to take the least chances as possible in order to assure that we get her alive." He swallowed thickly.

"Now…a number of you got to know her in the past while," he eyed Taichi, Miyako, and Ken, "and I want to assure to you that we will _not_ allow our personal feelings get in the way of this. From this moment onward, she is just a victim and we will treat her as a hostage victim until _after_ we have arrested the two men inside. Understood? If anyone seems to feel that they had the right to go on ahead and try to make an arrest on their own, you, too, will be staying home. Understood?"

The men and women nodded and agreed in unison, waiting for their leader to make the next move.

"You were all given your teams earlier, so, assemble in your teams, check your gear, and then let's head out." Yamato turned away to go speak with Taichi, before pausing. "Remember, we only have thirty minutes. Time's ticking."

* * *

"Mimi-chan."

She whimpered against the gag they had shoved into her mouth, her eyes burning from her non-stop tears and sweat. She felt saliva drip down the side of her mouth and wished that she could somehow wipe it off.

She felt so disgusting.

"Mimi-chan, you should learn to respond when you're spoken to."

She would have cried out if she could but the gag prevented any screams to leave her mouth as he kicked her hard in the stomach. All she could do was hang limply, all strength leaving her body the more they bruised her body.

"Oh, Mimi-chan," there was a sick and twisted tone of delight in Iori's voice, "you really are a slut!"

Her eyes widened with shock as the memories from the night before came to mind. He had just torn away the rest of her dress and discovered…

Yamato still had her underwear…

Oh…please, please _Kami-sama_…don't let them…

He grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw roughly as Junpei held her tightly, even though she had long since stopped moving.

"Mimi-chan, you're so filthy. You should be cleansed from all your dirty acts." He jerked her face, forcing her head to nod, making her agree with his statement. "Well, you won't ever be cleansed. I'm not a fucking priest." He let go of her face before backhanding her. "You lived as a whore and now you're going to die as a whore."

_Yamato_…

* * *

Yamato looked over his group and gestured for them to follow him. He slowly made his way towards the building, gun cocked and ready to be fired it any suspect came towards him. The made their way across the grass, before pausing at the door, where Yamato signaled for his men to stop while he entered and made sure that the coast was clear. He stepped back, signaling for his men to follow him once more, and they fell into formation.

The school had definitely been abandoned for quite some time. It smelt funny, like mildew and dampness, as though the water used to douse the fire had remained behind and taken up residence in the building.

A good portion, or at least the part they were in, was still intact, and they could see old papers, bureaus, and wastepaper baskets in the offices they passed. They noted that the walls were still rather clean, no graffiti and that, someone, must have been trying hard to take care of the abandoned building. It wasn't unusual nowadays; the head of the Prefecture had been trying hard to keep all buildings clean, used or unused, to simply clean up the appearance of the cities.

Yamato, however, was not thinking of how government workers kept the building clean; he was too busy looking down the empty hallways, searching through various classrooms, and trying to find the stairs that led to the basement.

It took a good ten minutes, including the pauses at every corner, the signals, and the continuation of their journey, before they finally reached the basement.

By this time, many of the men and women's hearts were pounding and adrenaline was slowly being pumped through their veins. They were getting closer and closer to their target destination.

Yamato's group had already merged with Taichi's group, both men leading, and Ken's group showed up just behind them. They had stated that if any of the three groups found the only stairs to the basement, then they would notify the others and everyone would meet at the specified location.

The basement was, as Jyou had stated, larger than expected, but it was just as clean as the main floor of the building.

They passed down the hallway, taking their time, Yamato, Taichi and Ken taking turns opening the wooden doors and checking the rooms, ensuring that they did not miss a single detail and that nobody was in each room.

"I wish that he had told us the exact fucking location," Taichi cursed after opening the, at least, tenth door and finding an empty room.

"This is weird," whispered Ken, looking around the hallway with his gun cocked. "Do you guys hear that?"

Everyone paused mid-step, listening to the silence of the hallway, the only sound breaking it being their heavy breathing.

"Silence," murmured Miyako. "It's quiet…too quiet. Do you think…?"

"No," Yamato snapped, "she can't be dead. This is the location; I know it."

"Then…do you think that she's unconscious or unable to scream?" This came from a woman in Ken's squad.

"It's a possibility," muttered Taichi. "Maybe they're worried about intruders hearing the screams."

"But…wouldn't they have set up a perimeter like us?"

"They're not professionals," answered Miyako. "It's just two men, in one room out of many, with one person. In all due honesty, the chances of someone showing up to vandalized the place is highly unlikely. Furthermore, they probably checked to see when the cleaners come by, so they know that the chances they will be interrupted are next to none."

"So, that means that we should all shut the fuck up," Yamato hissed into the communicator.

The silence filled the hallway once more.

The blond then lifted his hand and signaled for them to continue their route down the hallway.

* * *

"What was that?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Shibayama?"

Junpei lifted his head, looking towards the doorway, confusion etched into his eyes.

"I thought I heard…a noise." He kept his head cocked towards the door, almost as though he had heard something strange or unusual.

"What kind of noise?" Iori snapped, turning his attention from the woman in front of him to the door behind him.

"I...I don't know…maybe footsteps…"

Iori frowned up at the man, cursing the taller being for its lack of intelligence. "You fucking idiot. If you don't even know what kind of noise it is, then why the fuck are you worrying?" Iori turned his attention back to the woman, pressing the blade against the upper curve of her breasts. "Now stop fucking hallucinating and focus on your task." He grinned malevolently. "Hold her down."

But Mimi no longer felt the strange fear that had confused her the entire five hours she'd been here. For the first time, she felt a true glimmer of hope. She, too, had heard the odd noise from the doorway, having been trying to think of anything other than the man accosting her. But, even now, when she wanted to rely on any sound, anything that might suggest freedom for her, she couldn't completely dwell on those fantastical thoughts.

They were simply fantasy; she was delusional and Junpei was nervous. No wonder the slightest strange sound might seem frightening or hopeful to them.

A part of her wanted to slow down their ritual, to speak to them, to ask them just why they were doing this. She had, before, asked them for a reason, but they had never given her a clear one.

She'd been too stupid to think of delaying the inevitable, had been too frightened to think coherently enough and try to distract them. Now, she was paying the price for her stupidity.

If only…if only she had noticed the signs…the hints, the little symbols that had pointed to this possible conclusion…if only she had been smarter…

Now she barely had enough fight left in her, being held back by a behemoth while his master began to have his way with her limp and abused body.

She began to pray, not to any Deity in particular, just a simple prayer of help, asking anyone, anything, to come to her and help her. She didn't care how or who, so long as they got rid of the sick bastards touching her.

Even if it meant killing her.

* * *

Time was ticking…

They had about ten minutes left to get to her…

Yamato stood outside the suspiciously locked door, waiting for the others to get into position. Some were set up to play guard outside, three cops watching the hallways, looking out for any sign of an intruder. Yamato stood on one side of the door while Taichi flanked the other side, Miyako behind him just as Ken stood behind Yamato.

They knew that, if the room was empty, they would have to be faster. The noise of the door being slammed open would definitely alert the attackers.

That would cut their time left in half.

Damn school and their fucked up basements. No wonder half the fucking place had burnt down and half the students had died. The building was a fucking fire hazard.

Cocking his gun, Yamato glanced towards Taichi, before looking at the officers flanking them. He nodded towards the second in command, watching as Miyako reached around the brunet, placing a small unlocking device on the door.

The timer silently went down and they watched the glowing green numbers tick down, everyone preparing themselves for the small explosion. The small explosion would be concentrated enough to only cause damage on the door, creating no smoke and barely any fire. The only unfortunate part of using the device was that it created a loud popping sound.

_3…_

Yamato moved a bit closer to the door; angling himself to be first in once the door would swing open.

_2…_

Taichi followed, and it had a domino effect, with every officer preparing themselves to enter the locked room.

_1…_

_POP!_

The door swung open and the officers surged into the room, Yamato and Taichi at the lead with their guns pointed forward. Officers followed, flanking the sides, making sure that every corner of the room was looked over and checked.

Yamato stopped in his tracks and a quiet, collective gasp, rang through the group as they looked onwards.

_In the name of Kami-sama... _

**Hey guys. I'm sorry I didn't get to update earlier. As I posted on my profile, I got a virus in my computer and didn't want to chance that it might corrupt my files on ff(dot)net, since it had already attacked my e-mail account. I also didn't want to chance that it might attack my Word files, because I really didn't want to have all of my work corrupted by a fucking virus.**

**So, so far it's gone. . Yay. And, I've completed this chapter. It wasn't as long as I wanted it to be, but, well, I hope that it's still good enough.**

**So…where are Yamato and the policemen? Did they find the right room? What did they see?**

**You'll find out in the next chapter!**

**So long as I get the minimum requirement of three reviews…because it boosts my ego and turns me into a cocky bitch. .**

**I hope that you enjoyed it. Please, remember to notify me if you see any spelling/grammar mistake that Word or I missed. I will thank you dearly if you do. **

**Thanks for reading and thank you all so much for your patience. For any updates concerning future chapters, please see my bio, as I tend to put up Notes if explaining why it's taking me a while to post a particular chapter.**

**Ja ne!**


	25. Ugly Colours

**Sorry about the super long wait. Excuses and 'reasons' are given at the end of the Chapter.  
**

**But, finally, HERE IT IS! **

**THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL OF YOUR PATIENCE AND THE 200+ REVIEWS YOU HAVE GIVEN ME!**

**Lyphta gets uber love for being my 200****th**** reviewer. YOU HEAR THAT? UBER LOVE! Which means: A whole fricken' lemon pie. **

**Which will, possibly, be found somewhere in my Epilogue, ****hint, hint**

**So, yes, please enjoy as the story of Mimi and Yamato begins to finally come to its climatic close.**

**Chapter 25**

**Ugly Colours**

Her mind was reeling, beginning to slowly grow numb to everything outside of her. All she could hear was the raspy breathing sound her nose made each time she fought for more and more air.

Her throat felt constricted, tight and dry, despite the saliva flowing freely from her mouth to drip down her chin. Her teeth ached; her lips wet but dry as they clamped down harder on the round object.

She had tried so hard, so damn hard not to make a sound, hoping, praying, that their malicious hands would stop touching her and that the pain would, eventually, ebb away.

But, it never seemed to work…

Their hands never warmed up; they were always cold and malevolent, as though some frigid beast lived within them. She wanted to shiver with revulsion as they touched her, groping her, removing her clothes as they fought to remove the last shreds of her dignity. But, if she shivered, they might consider it to be an indication of her wanting. They would misunderstand it and she could just see their eyes glow with cruelty as their mouths curved into evil grins.

She shut her eyes, breathing heavily and clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands as she prayed.

She wasn't sure who she was praying to or if someone would hear her but she had to do something. She couldn't lie back and pretend that her body wasn't being violated; she needed to do something to distract her from the menacing cold hands and the cruel calculating stares.

_'Kami-sama…I suppose I ought to pray to you; you're the only deity I really know…I…I never really ask for much…and I know I'm not perfect or anything…but, do you think…maybe, you could help me out? It's just…it hurts…it hurts so much…and I'm scared…really scared…could you please…get rid of them? Please? I just…I just want them to stop…please, do something…anything…to help me. Please…please make it stop…make them go away…please…'_

She felt sobs bubble from her lung and into her throat and she fought her hardest to keep them at bay. But it didn't stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks, cold against her heated and abused flesh, stinging and salty as they reached her cut lips.

'_Help me. Please help me. Somebody…anybody…make it stop…'_

"Stop!"

She fought back a whimper, hearing the voice cry out, but barely registering where the sound came from. She just wanted the hands to stop touching her body…

The hands…

The voice…

Her mind was slow, taking its time in registering what had just occurred. What it some kind of miracle? Had _Kami-sama_ come down from the Heavens to order these men to cease their vile acts?

The hands…they were no longer on her breasts and stomach…

The voice…who did it belong to? She didn't say anything; she couldn't.

She slowly opened her eyes, the tears blurring her vision as she looked upon the most beautiful sight in the world.

The door was open, light flooding in, forming almost a kind of holy light or halo surrounding the dozen of men and women at the entrance. At the center of the men and women stood, like a magical God, a man with golden hair and crystal blue eyes.

_'Yama…to…'_

* * *

He dimly heard a few of his men and women gasp in revulsion at the sight before them. He was barely aware of Taichi muttering various curses and swearwords. But, in the end, all he could hear was his heart thundering in his chest and his breath coming out in violent rasps. All he could see was her…

He watched as she opened her eyes, squinting into the light given off from the hallway, and watched as they widened and filled with a new sense of hope so powerful it pushed away every last inkling of despair from her body.

He wanted to smile, to sigh in relief, to run to her and hold her in his arms forever, but he couldn't do that just yet. Once he trained his eyes on the two men holding her, his vision became red with rage and his finger itched to press down on the trigger.

"Police!" he heard Taichi shout out. "Lay down your weapons and put your arms in the air. You're under arrest!"

He noticed the silver blade in the shorter man's hand. He kept it in his peripheral vision as he looked at the man's face, noting the way it was contorted with obvious contempt and frustration. He didn't recognize this man but the other man…

Shibayama Junpei, police avoider extraordinaire. He felt a cruel smile tug at his lips as he watched the blood drain from the bigger man's face. He saw the way the man swallowed thickly as their eyes met and knew that Shibayama's heart must be pounding in his chest.

Hopefully, the man wouldn't get a heart attack before Yamato got a chance to shoot the fuck out of the sick bastard.

He could shoot both of them in the balls first and watch them squirm in agony.

"I repeat! Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air!"

First things first, Yamato reminded himself, he had to focus on arresting the sick fucks. Then, maybe, he could claim that his gun accidentally went off and he accidentally shot both men in the balls.

Yamato trained his gun on the shorter man's head, noting that, already, Shibayama would pose no threat to them. It was obvious that the man would not fight, acknowledging when was the right time to just give in. The shorter man, on the other hand, would probably try to find some way to finish the job before he was arrested.

Sick fuck.

Breathing heavily, trying to force his rage to calm down and make room for him to think clearly and intelligently, Yamato turned to Taichi, keeping the two men in his peripherals.

"Detective Yagami," he whispered, "I don't want you sending any men forward to try and physically restrain them. There are too many risks."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, I realized that the minute we got into the room," Taichi replied. "How do you want us to go about this?"

"We might have to try and shoot them in the hand, make them unable to stop a weapon." He gestured with his head towards the two men, who were still staring at them with shock and fury in their glittering dark eyes. "To be honest, the big guy won't pose any problems. It's the little one who I think will fight back."

Taichi nodded slowly in agreement and understanding, shifting his aim from the men's heads to their hands. While they couldn't see Shibayama's hands, they could still aim for his shoulders or his biceps. Send a bullet deep enough into a man's bicep and his arm could be rendered useless for weeks if not the rest of his life.

"I will not repeat myself one more time. Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air! You are surrounded."

It was a flash of movement, quick and blurry, and Yamato had barely blinked. But, within a second, not even, the shorter man had grabbed a hold of Mimi, pressing the blade against her throat.

He watched as her eyes widened with fear and he knew that panic was slowly beginning to fill her body. His hands trembled slightly on the trigger as fear and rage overwhelmed him.

"Don't come any closer! I have her and I'm not afraid to kill her!"

In any other type of situation, Taichi or Yamato would feign a yawn and pretend that they were bored. They would normally tell the man that they had heard it a million times and no one had ever escaped using the ruse.

This, however, was a completely different situation from the rest.

This man would not be afraid of killing her.

He had, after all, killed before.

"Hi…Hida-san…don't you…don't you think that that's a bad idea?"

Shibayama, the man who had, until seconds ago, held Mimi tightly in his grip, stammered out the words, sounding extremely nervous compared the cold voice of the smaller man.

"Fucking coward," the man, now identified as Hida, spat. "Some cops show up and you're going to just throw it all away. I won't give up my whore so easily." He leaned forward; keeping the knife against her throat as he slowly licked her cheek. He kept his gaze locked with Yamato's, watching as the cool blue eyes darkened with disgust and fury that was just barely kept in check.

"She's mine," he hissed. "She's always been mine and no one will take her away from me."

Yamato's vision flashed red at the words and he wanted to retaliate, to tell him that Mimi was his and nobody else's, but he knew that it would do anything but diffuse the situation.

Mimi wanted to shiver in revulsion, swallowing thickly as he touched her face with his disgusting hand, feeling the bile rise in her throat as his tongue traced the column of her neck a second time. She didn't give a damn about the blade at her throat; she would even risk slitting open her flesh if it meant getting his foul hands off of her body.

But, as her eyes looked up at Yamato, watching his cold eyes harden with checked fury, she knew that, maybe, she wouldn't even have to worry about cutting her throat to free herself. He would do anything to make sure that she would live and the bastard would pay.

First off, however, she had to make sure that she didn't do anything stupid that would prevent it from happening. Which meant that she had to calm herself down and try to think clearly.

This, however, was a rather difficult task, seeing as she wanted to do nothing more than sit in a corner and hyperventilate and scream for hours on end. She was surprised that she could even think such clear and concise thoughts at this moment in time. But, although she could think clearly and properly for a few seconds, it didn't mean that she could act on those thoughts or even continue developing them.

His hot, wet breath hit her ear and she felt the panic rise anew. She had to calm down…had to think about something else…had to do everything that she should have done from the beginning…

'_Calm down, Mimi. Calm down…deep breaths, take slow deep breaths…Oh, Kami-sama, his breath is so disgusting…calm, calm down girl, calm the fuck down.'_

"But…"

The trembling voice broke through her concentration, pulling her out of the reveries she had been establishing and pushing her back into the reality around her. She looked around, wondering just which cop had uttered the shaky word and found all of their eyes focused on the man situated behind her.

No, not Hida-san; he was a despicable piece of shit, but Shibayama-san, who had been ready to admit defeat and allow her to live. While he was just as despicable and disgusting as Hida-san, she had to admit that she had been rather relieved when he had offered to let her go and had been willing to be arrested.

He was, while his partner would refuse to believe it, the smarter of the two.

"But…Hida-san, shouldn't we just give in? I mean…they have guns, and there're more of them than us. We…we won't make it out alive. Why can't we just give them the girl and …and that way…we won't have to die."

Iori turned his violent gaze towards his partner, eyes flashing with anger and revulsion as he looked the bigger man up and down. He let out a hiss of anger from between his teeth before jerking slightly as he spat on the man.

Mimi winced as she felt herself pressed harder against the blade, feeling the sharp edge prick her neck and, just a moment later, fought back a whimper as a small trail of warm blood trickled down her throat.

Junpei sat, amazed and shocked, as the spittle trailed slowly down the side of his face while his mouth hung agape, as though he had never expected his partner to react in such a way.

He should have known better.

"You disgusting fat pig," Hida snarled. "You only think of your fucking self, don't you? You always think of yourself and nobody else. What about me? What about my fucking gratification? This fucking whore is mine, was mine from the moment I demanded she be mine, and she will always be mine, even if she turned me down. Now that I have her, now that I finally have her and will finally make her mine, you thought your life comes before my needs? You selfish pig!"

What the…? Had she ever turned down someone? Is this what this was all about? Some Dom who had taken the position too far?

She wanted to laugh at the stupidity of the situation, laugh at the senility of the man holding the blade to her throat and laugh, most of all, at how she had let herself be caught in this situation.

Maybe she, like Hida, was losing her mind.

"But…Hida…you…don't you think this is enough? I mean, you did get her…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Hida spat. "I did not finish this! I refuse to let those bastards take me away and lock me up or kill me before I can finish this! I will fuck the slut before I die."

Shibayama recoiled at his words, physically moving away as fear filled his eyes. Mimi realized at this moment in time that Shibayama was truly afraid of the man with the knife. This man, her patient, Hida Iori, was a man to be feared and taken seriously. He was someone who would do anything to get what he wanted and kill whoever got in his way.

Shibayama sat back, watching as Hida turned his attention back to the cops, returning to trying to goad the blond man into an uncontrollable fury. He sat back and watched as Hida kept the blade to her throat, watching as she swallowed thickly and shut her eyes as the man resumed touching her body, keeping his hands away from her sexual organs while making every touch just as intimate.

He watched as her lids fluttered shut, watched as she hid the horror and disgust from the world around her, and slowly began to realize just what this fearful man had been making him do.

Most of the deaths had been quick and violent, the women gagged while the men were knocked unconscious, blindfolded and gagged. He had never, he realized, noticed the fear and revulsion in the eyes of the women as they were brutalized and butchered. He had never felt an inkling of regret or disgust as he performed the actions he was ordered to perform.

Hida-san had been his boss, on site and orchestrating the situation, using Shibayama and Kido as pawns, forcing them to do his will by giving out money or threatening them with harsh punishments.

He had never, not once, wondered how these women felt, how the men felt, or how their families felt to know about the violence they had endured before their deaths. He had never considered that what he was doing was more than just wrong. He knew that it had been wrong, knew that something was wrong with him when he enjoyed what he was doing, but he had never truly realized it until now.

Mimi-san, he thought, was a good woman. She had showed him how to push back his aggressive tendencies, which had been the main reason why Hida had stopped the killings for such a long period of time. Hida's right hand man, the stronger one, the one had been able to talk and threaten into performing the vile actions, had been too calm and peaceful to perform the violent actions.

That had pissed off Hida.

And even now, as he watched her jaw clench and watched Hida defile and abuse her body, his usual aggressive tendencies that would normally overwhelm him at a time like this, were still held in check.

Maybe it was because the woman Hida wanted to kill was someone, he realized, that had played an important role in his life, albeit a short role. Perhaps it was also because Hida had manipulated his mind; drugging him and making him believe that she, and the other victims, was a slut and a whore. He had truly believed that she had used sex to get her way, deeply believing that she was not the kindly therapist but a crude, sexual creature that used sex to manipulate and abuse.

But, as he watched the emotions flit across her face despite her shut eyes, as his eyes fell on the blond man, watching as horror, fury, and possessiveness shone in the eyes of Lieutenant Ishida, he realized that this woman was no whore.

She was a good person, a kind and caring individual who loved and was loved. She was no whore, she was not someone who used her body to get what she wanted, and she was definitely not a disgusting bitch that belonged to Hida.

She belonged to no one but herself. She had the right to say yes or no, and had every right to make her decisions on her own. No one had the right to tell her that she belonged to them, and no one had the right to force her into doing something she didn't want to do.

Anguish overwhelmed him, consuming his very body and mind as he realized just what he had done. He had done so many vile acts, performed so many actions of cruelty and maliciousness, and had not once thought about what he had done. He had never once thought about what those women and men had felt while he had tortured and killed them. He had never lost any sleep, never worried about it, and had never suffered through a single nightmare.

He was a monster…

"Lieutenant, does it disturb you that I have your woman?"

He covered his face; he couldn't watch anymore, could not pay any attention to what the cruel bastard before him was doing.

"Did you know that this woman, my woman, is a whore? Did you know that? I guess you didn't but now you do."

He couldn't stand it…he had to…had to find something to do…had to rectify this situation…

"Yeah, my little bitch, such a filthy slut. Just like all those other women. They were all just like her. Spreading their legs like the whores they were, using their bodies to get whatever the fuck they wanted."

He had to do something…it wouldn't be much…it wouldn't take away all of the bad things he had done…but, now that his conscience had finally surfaced; now that he felt the guilt…he had to…to … to stop this…

What could he do? What in the world could he do?

She let out a muffled cry and he could barely imagine just what Hida had done to cause such a reaction. All he knew was that he had to do something…

"Let her go."

All movement in the room ceased, not that there was much movement to begin with. Half of the eyes turned from watching the small man to the larger man, while the remaining half stayed on the man wielding the glinting weapon. Yamato kept his eyes on the hand, watching as Mimi's throat convulsed every so often, fighting back the impulse to wince or call out each time her throat pushed against the blade.

All the while, however, he could see what was occurring in his peripherals. He could barely fight back the twinge of fear, anticipating that something awful just might happen within the next couple of minutes.

"What did you just say to me?"

The venom in Hida's voice was so thick many of the officers would not have been surprised if they had been poisoned and died that very instant.

"You…you heard me." Shibayama slowly opened his eyes. There was a faint glimmer of fear in the man's eyes. At least, until he took a deep breath, slowly blinked and pushed away all physical signs of anxiety, replacing the emotion with defiant determination.

This man, this person, who had, just a while ago, not even hesitated at the thought of killing an innocent woman, had just gone through an outstanding change.

Yamato could almost see the glimmer of a conscience surfacing in the man's eyes.

"I said let her go. The cops have us surrounded, they all have guns, and there's no point." He swallowed thickly, reminding himself of one of reason for his actions. "She's…she's too good. You have to let her go…she didn't do anything wrong."

Shibayama, on the other hand, had just done the wrong thing.

"Did nothing wrong?" Hida's voice seemed to have risen to a shriek. "Nothing wrong? What the fuck is wrong with you? Let her go? Why should I let this fucking whore go? How could you think that she deserves to live? She's just a –"

"I said let her go! Stop talking like she's some undeserving slut! She's a good person! She…she doesn't deserve this! What we did," Shibayama spread his hands, almost like a plea, "it was…horrible. Those women…those men…they didn't deserve what we did. Hida-san, we did some horrible things…some really bad stuff, and we made people suffer when they didn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve this…she didn't do anything wrong!" He reached forward, grabbing Hida's arm. "Let her go!"

Hida didn't even flinch, he gestured wildly, throwing the man's hands off of his arm as several cops adjusted their aim when the blade dug into Mimi's throat.

Unchecked fury flashed in his beady eyes as he swung his arm back, successfully elbowing Shibayama in the ribs, earning a gasp of pain.

"You fucking traitor. You bastard. How dare you say such shit to me? Those…bitches deserved what the fuck they got; they were all whores, and she's the worst! Don't try going all righteous on me; you killed them, too. You helped me kill all of them."

Mimi whimpered softly as the blade slowly cut her skin, causing a few rivulets of blood to trail down her throat onto her collarbone. Yamato's body, if it were possible, tensed even more at the sight of the blood. He had to push back every ounce of rage within his body, refusing the urge to shoot the man that very second.

The only problem was; while he wished he could shoot the bastard and make his last minutes alive been the most painful moments ever, the rules stated that he could not do such a thing. The law, the rules in the book, said that they had to use their weapons in the direst circumstances. They were instructed to rescue her and arrest them without needing to kill or injure someone.

"I know." Shibayama's voice held a note of tortured pain; as though he had been pushing back all of the agony, all of the guilt caused by the acts he had performed. "I know, but I also know that it was wrong. We can't do this, Hida-san; it's wrong. Let her go. Please."

It was rather surprising and odd to watch the scene play itself out. One minute, the man had been holding her down, restraining her as the smaller man abused and assaulted her body. Now, as though he had woken from some nightmarish dream, realization had hit the man with full force and he had completely switched personalities.

Perhaps personality wasn't the word. Maybe it was more like tactic, method, or even ideals. His goal was no longer to butcher and torture the woman; he wanted to save her.

Hida was not having any of it; his eyes darkened to cool, black pools of fury and amazement.

"Shibayama," he dropped any honorific title, demonstrating just how little he thought of the man, "don't you dare speak to me in such a way." His voice fell, switching from shrill to dark, cold and malicious. It was deep and soft, filled with venom and spite.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you suddenly developed some conscience? This is nothing but a fucking façade, a way to get the cops to think that you changed your ways so you could have less time in prison. But I know the truth." His eyes slanted, mouth pursed in a cruel grin. "You enjoyed killing those women. You loved feeling them squirm as we killed them, hearing their muffled cries as we made them bleed and die. Then afterwards, I know you went and found a woman for a good fuck.

"Killing those women turned you on, didn't it? You fucking loved it. You're probably horny right now, just as the thought of slitting this whore's throat. You want me to kill her. I know it; I see it in your eyes. You wanted to be the one to touch her, to make her pay for all the things she has done, and you weren't happy that I did it." A smile played at his lips.

"Maybe…maybe I could get you to shut up if I slit her throat right now. Just one quick slice of the blade and she'd die. I could even angle her so that the blood sprayed all over you. I know how much you love being covered in their blood." He let out a crude laughter, eyes glimmering with malevolent joy. "Just one quick slice…" He leaned forward, licking Mimi's cheek as he pressed the blade harder against her throat.

A few more rivulets of crimson began to trail down her torso.

"No!"

It all happened in a rush; Shibayama lunged forward, grabbing the man's arm, hauling him away from Mimi just as her eyes flung open. The officers all moved in unison, jerking as though they wanted to reach out and stop what was about to, inevitably, happen.

Blood spurted into the air and a slow, agonizing wail of pain filled with room. Several shots were fired on command, causing more blood to rain down and cover the floor, followed by several shouts and grunts of pain from the victim of the bullets.

In seconds, it was over. Mimi sat there, tears pouring down her face, half of her body covered in blood other than her own. Her shrill cries of panic were muffled by the gag in her mouth and she managed to hyperventilate through her nose.

The officers rushed forward as one, several surrounding the two bodies lying prone on one another, while Yamato made a beeline for Mimi.

He dropped his weapon on the ground and cupped her face, his hands trembling with fear and happiness. He stroked her cheekbones, running his fingers along her forehead, touching her chin as she sobbed and wailed with her eyes tightly shut.

When he removed the ball gag her eyes slowly opened. The panic fell from them as she saw her savior, tall and strong with his golden eyes and love-filled blue eyes.

"Ya…Yamato…" she whispered hoarsely in a trembling voice.

She slowly looked around the room, barely aware of the officer behind her trying to remove her bindings. She was confused; what had happened? It had all happened so quickly. Where were Hida and Shibayama?

The answer to the final question caused her breath to come out in fast gasps as she saw the pool of blood on the floor.

Just a few feet away from her lay the body of Shibayama Junpei, covered in blood and unquestionably dead. A knife lay hilt deep in the man's throat.

Her eyes then fell on the body of Hida Iori, who was not fatally wounded, cradling his blood arm as more crimson liquid stained his shirt. Officers were handcuffing him, not at all careful of his wounds, most likely assuring to hurt him even more.

"Mimi," Yamato murmured, drawing attention away from the corpse and the murderer, pulling her back into his loving gaze.

He was only given a moment's warning, the way her lip trembled and her choked whisper of his name was the only signal he got before she threw her arms around him and broke down into sobs.

They ignored the world around them, forgetting about the destruction and death, pulling themselves into a world where only each other existed. He held her there, keeping her in that world as he murmured endless words of love. He held her and pushed away all of the demons, promising her that, for the rest of her life, she would be able to live in peace and love.

* * *

Sora paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room, impatient to hear news about her best friend.

When they had hauled Mimi in, lying on the stretcher and already hooked up to a couple of machines and IVs, Sora had nearly collapsed in a heap. But, when Taichi came over and gave her the words she needed to hear, telling her and promising her that Mimi would live, she broke down into sobs of joy that wracked her entire body.

She rubbed her belly as she paced, unable to sit down and wait for the doctor or an officer to tell her that could come in and see Mimi. She needed to know that Mimi would be okay, needed to know for sure that Mimi would live through this without any kind of trauma.

Mimi was a strong woman, Sora knew that for certain, but she feared that this incident just might break the woman's mental barriers.

Mimi had been through so much in the past few years, and just from the earlier incident she had nightmares that made her violently ill. Sora could barely imagine just what mental torment the woman would go through after this incident.

The weight of responsibility and realization forced Sora to sit down in the nearest chair, leaning forward as she massaged her belly; eyes clenched shut as she began to fear the worst.

What if Mimi couldn't live without her? What if she had to take sedatives of sleeping pills for the rest of her life? What if nothing helped her? Would she go crazy and lose her mind?

Sora's eyes flung open as she realized that Mimi could, potentially, lose her job and status because of this. Her mind would be unstable, she might not be able to think clearly anymore and might spend the rest of her life worrying and stressed.

Mimi loved her job as a therapist, loved knowing that she could help her patients get through their difficulties, and Sora couldn't imagine Mimi living happily without her job.

Dear _Kami-sama_, what was going to happen to Mimi? Physical wounds would heal over time, but the mental scars would never go away.

* * *

_Several hours later…_

He stood waiting in the shadows, patient, as still as death. Watching.

Waiting.

He didn't want to be seen; he didn't want company or, for that matter, to allow anyone to even acknowledge his presence.

He had to do this alone.

He was unsure of what had compelled him to act now. All that he knew was that the overwhelming need came fast and sudden, quickly whispering words of the plan into his mind so that, within moments, it had been formed and was being acted out.

So, he stood in the shadows, waiting for the world to turn a blind eye.

Once the sun's eye would be removed from him, once the watchful eye of the blond was out of focus, he would be able to slip into the room and confess.

He had some many sins that he needed to repent for, so many things that had been left unsaid, and he had very little time left for him to get everything said and done.

Only then, once the words were spoken and the actions performed, would he be able to live in relatively mental peace.

Save for the few expectant nightmares, but he would deal with those when the time came.

His eyes watched the door, watched as the figures of the friends moved out of the room and shut the brilliant white door, shutting her off from the outside world.

He slowly moved forward. He didn't have much time left; the glass windows would let the watchers' eyes see him and he knew that they would not want him left alone with her for too long.

He had maybe five minutes at the most.

He deftly slipped into the room, opening and shutting the door with barely a sound, and he became almost overwhelmed by the sounds of machinery and metallic blips and beeps.

She was alone, in an ivory room consumed by electronic devices and boxes, surrounded by metal and plastic, as pale as the walls. There were no flowers, there was no colour. Even her hair, usually a black-blue colour that shone brilliantly in the light, had lost its brilliance. It had dulled, just a monotonous ebony colour that soaked in the light instead of repelling it.

Plastic and metal dug into her wrists and was stuck onto her fingers. Plastic covered her mouth and a long, clear tube reached under the blanket, shoved deep within her chest to treat her collapsed lung.

One was giving her oxygen while the other was removing air from her body.

It was almost…ironic.

No…was irony the right word?

He wasn't sure at the moment and he didn't have the time to be certain.

He had already wasted half a minute by just staring at her form, looking at her bruised and abused body, noting that there was, in fact, some colour in the room.

As he stepped forward, he looked at the colours, noting how vivid they seemed in the disgustingly clean white room.

A plastic tube was filled with red, the substance dark and foul looking in the sac hanging by the bedside. It was her life, just like the oxygen, but, unlike the oxygen, this was foul and repulsive.

He wasn't sure that he would ever be able to look at blood the same way again for the remainder of his life.

Her bruises were so…colourful. So disgustingly colourful and bright compared to her paper-white skin. An array of yellow, grey, blue and red dots and circles spread out erratically on her arms, face, and throat. He could only fathom just how many more were hidden under the repulsive white sheet.

He found himself beside her, close enough to touch and he wanted to run.

He wanted to turn around and sprint out of the room, only coming back when he had enough colours to dampen the vibrant hues of her bruises and blood. He would come back with gallons of paint in a myriad of colours, anything that did not remind him of her body's deathly rainbow of colours that glowed so vibrantly in the crude, white room.

Pinks and yellows, oranges and greens, as many colours as he could find to drown out the colours of abuse and death.

One minute has passed…he had little time left…little but precious time…

He wanted to touch her hand, to feel her smooth skin, but the bruises and blood-filled plastic repulsed him. He didn't care that she looked frail, like a hundred year-old china doll that might shatter upon the slightest impact. He would touch her if she looked frail and white.

It was the colours that disturbed him.

Four minutes and forty-five seconds left…

He swallowed thickly, swallowed his fear and trepidation, and moved forward, gently taking her hand in his.

He ignored the colours and touched her fair skin, noting that, while she looked so deathly and pale, she was warm to the touch, almost feverish.

He looked at her face, the face that appeared so peaceful in its drug-induced sleep. He knew that the drugs stopped her from having the nightmares she would soon have, that they pushed back all foul thoughts and kept her mind in such a state of numbness that even if she had a nightmare, the cruel visions would not be able to torture her just yet.

Maybe he ought to steal some for himself for the future…

Four minutes and twenty-five seconds left…

He had to hurry; he had so much to say, so much to do, and so little time…

"Tachikawa-san," he murmured, his voice sounding so detached from his body that he found himself fighting the urge to look for the third person in the room.

"T…Tachikawa-san," he repeated, "I…I suppose you probably won't remember this; they have you so drugged up, but now is the only time I am able to do such a thing."

His hands were shaking. His hands never shook.

"I helped them, Tachikawa-san. I helped them take the others, helped them get away with such foul things. I shouldn't have, I should have realized that lives are far more important than money, but, at that time a couple months ago, I had not properly aged and thought of money as the most important aspect in life." He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, looking to her face to watch for any changes.

"I was wrong…"

"I cannot say that I was not aware that you were his target; he had made it clear from the beginning that you would be his final victim. I should have gone to the police, should have done something, but, at that point in time, I barely knew you and could care less about your life."

He would forever hate the purplish colour of the shadows under her eyes. They dulled her lashes and made her face appear gaunt and deathly.

It was a reminder that she had come too close to death.

"I'm not here to say that I'm to blame for everything. I do deserve some blame," his voice grew stronger with every word he spoke, "but I was not, fortunately, the mastermind behind all of this chaotic death. If I had known sooner…if I had…" _matured_, "realized everything earlier on, then I do not think you would be here in the state you are in."

He moved his hand, brushing back her hair from her cheeks, rubbing the colours under her eyes, as gentle as possible, as though the colours mind fade or come off like the dust from a moth's wing.

"I realized something that Hida never did realize. It wasn't that life is far more important than money, it was not that no one deserves to be tortured or punished, it was that…without you, some many people would have a lot more darkness in their lives."

He almost wished that the room were darker; he wouldn't have to stare at the foul colours…

Two minutes…

Already? Had time gone by so quickly?

He was stalling too much…he had to get to the point…

"Tachikawa-san, while some people may look at your story, at your nightmare, and call you the Mary-Sue of all women, I want to point out that you are no such thing. You are better than that Mary-Sue and your story is so much more terrifying that her story has ever been. Also, I know that, while many would not be able to live without you, you would be lost without the others.

"Especially the lovely Takenouchi-san."

While normally he would chuckle at this thought, smirking faintly to himself, he knew that this was not the right time or place for such actions.

So he performed them within his mind.

"I suppose a part of me helped you out of selfishness while the other was more mature in its thought procedure." He sighed softly and continued to rub at her colours, willing them to fade into nothing.

"A part of me, a very important part of me, realized a short while ago that you are truly a brave and beautiful woman. You are a rarity on this earth, in this world where so many women succumb to the power and threat of men. You stand strong in this world, pushing back your nightmares in order to let others lean on your for support. But…you aren't afraid to lean back when you need to do it. That is what makes you beautiful." A small sad smile played at his lips. "You know that you aren't perfect, that you, like everyone else, have your own demons you need to conquer and that you need someone else's help from time to time.

"Especially Takenouchi-san's help."

The smile twitched, for a second at the most, but long enough for it to be almost crude in the setting. It had become so loving, so adoring, and so sad at the same time. Almost like he knew that he would never have the one thing in the world he felt he could never live without.

"That, Tachikawa-san, is the reasonable side's reason for what I did. But, my selfish side did this, helped save you, for another reason."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he focused only on the feel of her soft skin under his thumb. Even with the bruises and the cuts, with the plastic covering half of her body, her skin still felt as soft as a satin petal.

It was almost laughable.

"You see, Tachikawa-san, I did not do this because I like you. If anything, a part of me loathes you to the point where I wish you had died. But…that same part that hates you also manages to love you.

"Because you make Takenouchi-san smile and glow. Only you and that boyfriend of hers make her look so happy with life. She smiles and laughs and you are the lucky being that makes her laugh so beautifully. You make her smile and make her happy and…I wouldn't live with myself if I saw the source of her happiness taken away from her in such a cruel manner."

He wanted to laugh, wanted to find some sort of comedic relief in the situation, but he could find nothing but sadness and disappointment. He was a sap at heart, a cruel, disgusting, sap who had fallen for the wrong woman. But, even as he realized that she would never love him back, he still loved her from afar and, by loving her, grew to love and loathe her friends and lovers.

"If I could, if it would not remove the smile from her face, I would have gladly let you die. But," he opened his blue eyes, looking at her unconscious form, "I would never dare do anything to make Takenouchi-san so unbearably sad." He let out a laugh; a crude, barking laugh that sounded so alien in this antiseptic room of machinery and death with its foul colours.

"Love is a bitch, isn't it?"

He pulled his hand away from her face, away from her beautifully bruised face, and watched her for only a moment before turning away.

"If it weren't for her, Tachikawa-san, you would be dead by now. Be thankful that even cold bastards like myself can feel love."

Kido Jyou let himself out of the room and waited patiently for the world to imprison him.

Maybe then, once he was behind bars and hidden away from the world, he would look back at this and laugh.

Or cry.

**There we go. It took a few months but I finally managed to complete this chapter.**

**I hope that my section with Jyou was satisfactory. I wrote it at midnight, finishing at 1a.m., knowing fully well that I should be in bed because I have to get up at five a.m.**

**But, I can't leave my faithful reviewers waiting too much longer, can I?**

**I'd like to say I'm sorry for making all of you wait for so long. I don't know what happened, but it was like my unconscious just didn't want me to finish this story. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this story is complete save for an Epilogue. Anyways, I apologize for making all of you wait and I hope that the ending was satisfactory and worth the long-ass wait. **

**I would list all of my reasons for why this took so long (some include: work, Lost Odyssey, Harvest Moon: Rune Factory, vacation, and soccer) but I would take up too much space and I'm too tired to write it all down, so please believe me when I say that I have a bajillion good reasons for why I took so long to complete this (save for the video games…)**

**Thank you all for your support throughout the entire story, and I promise that the damn Epilogue really shouldn't take as long as the other chapters (and I'm serious about this promise!!)**

**Please look at the poll I have posted on my profile, as it will help me decide what I want to do with Lieutenant Ishida and Detective Yagami. **

**I will also take requests (but I already have one that will be taking my full attention once the Epilogue is posted). **

**Thank you all for your patience, kind words, and criticism. Thank you all for helping me develop as an author and allowing this story to flourish. You gives are my true fans. **

**I love you all.**

**Ja ne. **

**Final note: in order to unlock the beautiful Epilogue, I must receive three reviews or more. If not, then the Epilogue will forever remain out of your reach. Why do I do this? Because I'm a bitch.  
Also, if you see any spelling/grammatical mistakes please tell me about it so that I may correct them, and please try to keep any criticism constructive and positive. I do not mind negative criticism, but if it is nothing but flames or immature, I will delete it or report it. Thanks. **


	26. Epilogue

**Well, here it is. The final 'chapter.' The last installment of my fic (which will, hopefully, be immensely edited by myself and one day become a full length novel.) Anyways, I hope that all of you have enjoyed reading the series as much as I have enjoyed writing it. **

**I would list a thank-you list to all those who have stuck with me from the beginning to end, but I feel that the list will be too long. **

**So, I'll just say: THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU! Without your support, I highly doubt that this fic would have been completed.**

**I hope that this Epilogue is good enough for all of you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or I would be fucking rich.**

**Epilogue**

_Roughly Six Months Later…_

She woke in the darkness, eyes darting about the shadow-filled room, listening fervently to the sound of the occasional car driving by on the street outside. The eyes searched the darkness, needing to find some indication that there was even the slightest bit of light to help her see.

She hated the dark, hated not being able to see, and hated, even more, the dreams that still plagued her mind even months after the events had occurred.

The doctors had told her that they would stay for a while and had prescribed her sleeping pills, which she quickly dumped in the toilet. She didn't want drugs to help her sleep; she knew that the drugs would not keep the nightmares at bay.

All she needed was to be in his arms.

In the darkness, she rolled over, reaching out to him with a pale, trembling hand that grasped his warm shoulder. Like always, no matter the hour, no matter what time they had lain down to sleep at, he would turn around and pull her into his arms in a tight embrace.

His hands would trail compassionately down her sweat-soaked back, comforting her physically while his whispered words eased her mind. He would lie there and hold her, telling her that she was safe, reminding her that he would always protect her and keep her from harm.

Some nights, like this very night, she would need more than his embrace to calm her fears. She would need more than his arms around her to push back the memories that had been unearthed by darkness and shadows.

In the dark her mouth would seek his, gently pulling his head down to lock his lips in a tender kiss that always calmed her more than anything.

This tender kiss, that always turned savage with arousal, was the sole reminder that she was not in maniac's arms. His taste, his arms, his smell, the very feel of him pressed against her, always pushed back the nightmares whereas the drugs would instigate them.

Eventually, her tongue would seek more of his flavour; just the texture and taste of his lips was not enough. As this phenomenon occurred, she trailed his mouth with her tongue, sliding it past his lips to dance with his tongue.

Their flesh began to heat up, hearts racing and breath coming out in gasps. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweet honey as her hands roamed down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles contracting under her fingertips.

Deftly, he rolled over, pulling her on top of him as the kiss went from chaste to savage. She plundered his mouth, needing to feel him, all of him, on her, within her. She ached for him to bury himself within her and push all of the nightmares away with each and every thrust.

She threw her head back with a cry as his fingers found her breasts, teasing and tugging at the nipples. He drew moans from her as he teased the hardened nubs, pinching and rubbing as she slowly began to writhe on top of him.

Groaning against her throat, he placed butterfly kisses along her heated flesh, delighting in the feel of her full breasts overflowing in his hands.

One hand trailed down her stomach, finding her smooth mound and the moisture that lay at the center of her thighs.

"Yamato," she gasped, grasping at his hair while his fingers worked magic on her clitoris. "Please…I…right away…please…I can't wait…"

Growling at her husky, sensual voice, the urgency thick, he gave one last rub to her clit before grasping her hips. Her hand trailed down his body, grabbing hold of his hard cock before slowly guiding it into her body.

She sank back on him with a cry of delight and his hips jerked up as she began to slowly undulate against him.

Her movements were slow, erotic, and savage at the same time. This was the way it always was. Every night she was tormented by memories, she would wake up and he would let her take control. She would climb on top of him and take her time with him, even though at times he had to fight back the need to roll over and pound his cock in her until she screamed.

Tonight was one of those nights, when his fingers dug into her hips, urging her to go just a bit faster, just a bit rougher, and, yet, he let her take full control of the situation.

She rubbed against him, her chest pressed to hips as she moved her hips up and down, reveling in the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her, coated in her moisture, hitting her in the right spot each and every time.

"Yamato."

Her gasp, the breath on his ear, made his cock jerk violently in her, earning a small scream of pleasure in response.

"Mimi," he groaned against her throat, teasing the skin with his teeth until she shuddered on top of him.

She arched back, feeling the urgency, the need, and letting it overwhelm her. Her hips slammed hard against his as she gyrated, feeling his swollen member rubbing every little aching spot inside of her sensitive pussy.

"Baby…arch your hips. Push them up…I need to feel you deeper inside of me."

He listened. Every time she had a demand, a need, he always listened. It was another way of letting her know that she was in control. Then, later, he would show her just who the dominant one really was.

Her muscles tightened and she let out a soft cry as she fell over the precipice, consumed by desire and pleasure as her orgasm hit her. The urgency doubled and her movements became almost erratic, her hips surging forwards, aching for him to be deeper, for it to be harder, stronger, and she let out another, louder, cry as her muscles convulsed around him for the second time.

"Oh, _Kami_, yes Mimi!" he cried, slamming his hips upwards, feeling his balls tighten as his orgasm drew near. "Please…please don't stop…"

Her lips latched onto his, her hips slamming harder and harder, her hands grasping his hair as she moaned into his mouth. Their tongues fought and danced, his fingers dug into her buttocks, urging her to move harder and faster with each passing second. She tasted his need, his urgency, and, most importantly, his love.

He shouted into her mouth, his whole body tensing as the orgasm ripped through him. Her pussy clenched tightly around him as she fell over the precipice at the same time as him. Pleasure consumed them in fiery waves as their cries mingled, their bodies tightening and contracting as the desire slowly ebbed away.

Her sweat-soaked body fell on his, her chest rising and falling quickly as she panted heavily. His hands fell limply to his sides and he closed his eyes, regaining his breath while enjoying the feeling of her naked body on top of his.

It was then, in the silence afterwards, that they heard the ringing sound.

Groaning, Yamato managed to move despite Mimi's limp body on his, and she shuddered violently as he reached for the phone, causing his cock to slide a bit deeper in her.

He bit back a growl of pleasure as he answered the phone, ready to kill whoever was on the other end for ruining the aftermath of their pleasurable encounter.

"This better be important, someone better be dead or I will make sure that somebody _is_ dead," he snarled into the phone, recognizing the I.D. as Taichi's cell phone number.

"Yamato-kun, sorry if I intruded on a sex session or something but this is important," Taichi replied.

Yamato somehow sat up, ignoring Mimi as she limply rolled off of him and into her side, where she proceeded to try and fall back asleep.

"What's the matter?"

Her head lifted, eyes half-open as she partially paid attention to the conversation.

"Sora's in labor."

"Give me the location and we'll be right there."

* * *

She watched his fingers grip the steering wheel, no longer half-asleep as their made their way down the empty streets of downtown Tokyo. He sped without a care, ready to turn on the lights in order to get to the hospital faster.

She turned to stare out of the window, running a hand through her mussed up hair as she thought about the situation.

She was about to become a godmother.

That, out of everything that had happened in her life, was one of the greatest things to ever happen to her.

She could care less if her hastily put on clothes matched, or that she wore no make-up and her hair had not been brushed. She didn't even care that she flaunted two decent sized hickeys on her neck like a hormonal teenage girl. All that mattered was urging Yamato to get to the hospital faster so that she didn't miss the birth.

As they drove as thought about the past few months and recalled just how glad she was that they were over. Even now, four months after she had been allowed free reign of her life, four months after being allowed out of the hospital and away from a psychiatrist, she still felt emotionally exhausted.

The first month after the attack had been absolutely overwhelming. She had been hospitalized; her wounds treated, and had been visited almost daily by a therapist from the hospital. While she tried to not get antsy with them, knowing that they only meant to help, she couldn't help but feel that this guy did not know how to properly treat people.

Maybe she was going through some ego-complex at the time, she wasn't really sure. Perhaps her ability at being a therapist, her ability to get people to talk and to show people how they weren't monsters was the only thing she could properly rely on. Maybe that was why she didn't really regret treating the therapist like dirt.

Well, she had to admit, she didn't really treat him like dirt. She just made him feel inferior to her, especially when she announced her titles, her awards, and the fact that she was a good ten years younger than him and made, at least, twice as much as he did a year.

Aside from the therapy, aside from the hospital stay, she still had to live with the fact that Shibayama Junpei had, ultimately, died trying to protect her. She knew that he had not been a good person, that he had performed some acts that were unforgivable, but she also knew that he had risked and lost his life trying to free her from the hands of a maniac.

That someone lightened her view of him, not by much, but by enough so that she felt some pity and sadness when the coroner had announced his time of death.

To go with the feeling of regret, the guilt of feeling like she should have worked harder on helping him when he was in her office, she was consumed by endless bouts of panic and anxiety whenever she thought about the court date.

Usually, when someone committed a felony, it took a long time just to set up a court date, get everyone into court, and it could take months at a time to finally reach a verdict. This, on the other hand, took about a month. Not only did all of the evidence point to him being the murderer, his confession helped speed the process along. However, many of the jurors had found Hida Iori to been mentally unfit to go to prison, so they agreed to send him to a mental institution until he was deemed mental stable and able to spend the remainder of his life in prison.

Those days, the days were she was brought into the courtroom in a wheelchair, the sight of his eyes boring into her, glaring at her from his seat, made her feel unbelievably uncomfortable and terrified. Each day she went there ended with a night consumed by nightmares so intense that she couldn't sleep. Every day that she had to stare at him, had to feel his gaze on her, she felt physically sick and spent half of her night vomiting from the memories that plagued her.

It was during that period that she had realized that the drugs only helped her dreams. The drugs forced her to sleep, forcing her back into the realm of her memories where the dreams were even more vivid than the others, where she felt everything to the point that she woke screaming in pain, her body on fire, her stomach contracting as she felt the memory of his hands on her breasts.

Yamato was always there for her, holding the bedpan, caressing her hand, and, eventually, he would sneak into bed with her, lying with her and she fell back asleep in his arms.

It was then that she discovered that his embrace was far more effective than the drugs had ever been.

When the grueling, painful month had finally finished, she was finally able to smile when she was pleasantly surprised.

Instead of being brought back the duplex, Yamato drove her to his apartment, where all of her belongings mixed with his. She had cried for hours, barely listening as he told her that he had discussed it with Sora, how Sora and Taichi were now in the duplex while he and Mimi could live together.

This moment was one of the best ones.

They pulled up in front of the hospital, tugging her out of her reveries of the last months, reminding her that they had one more grueling task to deal with and then, life would be beautifully perfect.

Sora and Taichi would be able to add one more person to the world. They would become parents and, they admitted, when their child was old enough to walk, they would get married. For now, the couple remained engaged.

Mimi held Yamato's hand in hers as they power walked from their parked car and towards the hospital. She still moved with a slight limp and her face was no longer unblemished, the home of two pink scars on her forehead and chin. She had jokingly called herself Harry Potter when the doctor told her of the scarring, although Yamato hadn't found it overly funny.

Then again, the man had admitted that he didn't even know _what_ Harry Potter was, which was beyond blasphemy in Mimi's opinion.

She waited as Yamato ordered for Sora's room number and rushing after him, hurrying as fast as she could with her still-healing leg. The doctor's had said that she might walk with a minor limp for the rest of her life, there had been that much damage to the ligaments.

The silence in the elevator was deafening, the tension and excitement thick, making Mimi wonder if the nurse with them got out a few floors early just to get away from it.

She limped after Yamato and watched, waited again, as he shouted with the nurse, demanding that they be in the room for the birth. When the nurse said no for the fourth or fifth time in a row, Mimi stepped forward and placed a hand on her lover's shoulder.

"What's her reason for not letting us in?"

It was funny how different they were when they had a lack of sleep. Yamato was short-tempered and bossy while Mimi remained rather calm and understanding. This said a lot about her personality when she had a full night's sleep.

Yamato spun around to face Mimi, his eyes darkened with frustration. It was obvious that the simple idea, the notion that he would not be there for the birth of his best friend's child would cause him a great amount of grief. Yamato had spent the past weeks talking about being present for the birth, joking about how he would have to hold up Taichi while the brunet fainted from the sight of Sora shooting a baby out of her body. Then, he would get this glow to his eyes, almost a glimmer of jealousy, and she would wonder, quietly, if he wanted to have children of his own one day.

For now, however, this would be as close as he could get to having a child and she knew that he wouldn't miss this for the world.

"She says that it would take us too long to get prepped and that by the time we get in there, the baby would probably already be out."

"She's that far along?"

"Apparently," Yamato spat.

Mimi turned to the nurse, who appeared more annoyed than frightened. "Are you sure there's absolutely no way for us to get in there to watch the birth?"

The woman crossed her arms, the annoyance increasing, making Mimi wonder if she felt like she was wasting her time on the two of them.

"There's no way. Takenouchi-san was already quite far along, she was fully dilated and we had to rush her into the delivery room for preparations. You'll just have to wait outside until after the child is born and taken care of."

Licking her lips as annoyance began to flow through her veins, Mimi fought the urge to sigh heavily in response. "So, you assume that it won't take us a total of two minutes to get some damn blue scrubs on and into the room to witness the birth of our godchild?"

Perhaps it was the word 'godchild' that did it or it was something else altogether, all Mimi knew was that some sympathy filled the eyes of the nurse before her.

"I understand that you wish to witness the birth, but I'm afraid that even if you two do get cleaned and changed in time, there won't be any room for you. Aside from the doctor and nurses in the delivery room, there are also the parents of the mother and father."

Mimi almost jerked back in surprise. Sora's parents had, somehow, managed to get in the same room for a period of time without causing some sort of ruckus or instigating another endless argument? Even Sora had been doubtful that her parents would willingly stand in the same room to witness the birth.

Maybe this would help Sora find some closure with her estranged mother…

But that didn't excuse the reasoning for why she and Yamato would not be able to witness the birth.

"Look, the father called us with the idea in his mind that we would witness the birth." Mimi sighed softly, wondering if she should bring up some of the events that had occurred in the last six months. Glancing to Yamato, she decided that perhaps it would be an okay idea.

"We've been through a lot in the past year," she glanced at the nametag, "Yukie-san, and we would really appreciate it if you could, somehow, get us into the room to witness the birth. Sora and Taichi are like family to us and it would mean the world to us if we could just witness this birth."

She watched the conflicting emotions play on the nurse's face and resisted the urge to scowl when the sympathy was pushed aside and replaced with determination.

"I'm sorry, but I can't."

Swallowing thickly, Mimi decided to play it up. Holding Yamato's hand tightly, she placed her free hand against her abdomen. Suddenly formed, unshed tears glittered in her eyes as she pushed aside all emotion save for sadness.

"It's just…it really would mean the world to us…I…you see, I can't conceive children. Ovarian cancer, you see, when I was younger." She shuddered slightly, as though pushing back repressed memories of white rooms and the scent of antiseptic. "I just…this is as close to having a child as I'll ever get. Please…it would really mean a lot if we could watch the birth, to share the joy of being able to bring a child into this world…it would mean so much to us…"

Every last resolve in the nurse shattered at the sight of Mimi's teary eyes. "Oh, fine, follow me, and hurry."

It took them a total of one and a half minutes to get scrubbed and dressed, and less than ten seconds to rush in the room, when Yamato rushed to Taichi's side while Mimi hurried over to hold Sora's hand.

They listened to her grunts and shouts, patted Taichi's back while Mimi wiped the sweat from Sora's brow. They forced back their chuckles every time Sora savagely cursed Taichi for getting her pregnant and resisted the urge to gag whenever she began to sob about how much she loved her Taichi-kun.

It was painful to watch and Mimi wondered if, in the end, all of this pain would be worth it. But, as the child came out, letting out the first shrill scream, she saw the love in Sora's eyes. She stepped aside, falling into Yamato's warm embrace while Taichi went over to Sora, stroking her hair and watching as the doctors cleaned the baby. She saw the triumph, saw the compassion, and saw the raw and exposed love in the eyes of the two people before her.

Then, only then, once they were able to hold the tiny child in their arms, did Mimi understand that maybe, in the end, it was worth it.

She turned to Yamato, snuggling against him while the parents and grandparents began the tradition of coddling and spoiling their only child and grandchild. Looking up into his azure eyes, she felt her lips twitch and form a smile.

"You know, this is the part of the story where you remove all glory and attention from them, get down on one knee, and propose to me in a grandiose manner with a gold ring and a shiny, huge-ass diamond in it."

He chuckled in response and kissed her capped head, already missing the curls that were hidden under the blue cap.

"In a corny, sappy story it is, but, to be honest, our life has been anything but sappy."

"True," she laughed quietly. "Even our sex lacks the sappiness of a perfect, romantic love story. And," she added, "the heroine is supposed to end up looking perfect and flawless in the end, no matter what happens to her."

"But you have these beautiful scars that only add to your character."

"Suck up."

"I do it and say it for the sex."

Her smile broadened and she glanced briefly towards the happy couple. "So, no ring with a diamond the size of Pamela Anderson's breasts?"

"I didn't know they made rings with diamonds that big."

"Of course they do."

He smiled and sighed softly. "If you must know, I haven't really thought about getting married." He cupped her cheeks and continued before she could retort with a comment that matched the annoyance in her eyes. "I was hoping we could live together for a year, see if you could stand me, and then we could think about it. Of course, you have to realize that we'll be busy babysitting Sora and Taichi's lovely little boy."

Mimi's eyes lit up at the prospect of babysitting and spoiling the child. "So, you want to see how we react with taking care of the baby and see if we'll be ready to have our own, right?"

"Obviously, and I take it that you _can_ have children, unless you're hiding another story of your past that will make your life seem even sappier and sadder. Almost too Mary Sue like."

She resisted the urge to playfully punch him in the kidneys and responded instead with a smile of her own. "Nope, I had a boring childhood until a few years ago. Perfect family, nice parents, only child, good education, good friends, and a great life until I met you."

"I sense a blow to my ego."

"Oh shut up." She hugged him tightly. "So, I have no more skeletons in the closet aside from the fact that my mother is a rather eccentric cook and moved to the States with the idea that she could become a famous chef. She fits in but…my father's a rather pathetic excuse for an American."

He let out a quiet chuckle and kissed the tip of her nose in response. "So, how about we stop talking about you for a bit, go see the parents and talk about something far more interesting?"

"You jerk," she laughed, but turned and led the way to their best friends and godchild.

When all was said and done, when the grandparents and godparents were ushered out of the room to give the exhausted mother her much needed rest, Mimi sat in the car with Yamato as her side, watching the sun rise from the hospital parking lot. Both had work in a few hours' time and both considered the idea of calling in sick. Yamato, however, had two cases he was close to finishing up with, and Mimi had three new patients coming in.

So, they sat and enjoyed the sunrise, wondering if this would be the perfect setting to the end of their eventful love story. Mimi jokingly demanded that he propose and he added that proposing to her in a car was anything but romantic. In the end, they just sat and watched the sun rise.

They weren't sure where their lives would lead them, weren't sure what would happen to them in the future, but they were sure that, in a few years' time, they would watch their best friends walk down the aisle and exchange vows. They were certain that they, themselves, would one day perform the same acts and become one before a crowd of people. They were certain that, maybe, they would have children of their own.

They were also certain that, while the sunrise was the perfect backdrop to the end of a romantic story, it was also the perfect backdrop to the beginning of a new life, as corny as it seemed.

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, looking up into the clear blue that had tempted her so much. She knew then, at this moment in time, that everything would be all right. Despite their past, despite what had happened in the past year, everything was going to be okay.

Nobody would ever be able to tell her otherwise.

**There we go, the end. The end of my fic. Now time for me to go over the 300+ pages I've written, edit them, and so forth. **

**Fun.**

**Anyways, I want to first thank everybody for reading this. Every person that has stuck with me from the beginning to end. Without you, my readers, this would never have been completed. You gave me your support and trusted me to write something that you would all enjoy. So, I just hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing this.**

**Out of everything I've written so far, I would consider this story the closest thing to my masterpiece.**

**Please, feel free to give me any criticism. I love it and appreciate it. Also, if you wish to make any requests. However, I will not be able to write them unless you give me pertinent details, such as the characters, location, plot (not just: Mimi is a blah-blah, Yamato is a blah-blah, make them fall in love), and so forth. I need the right details in order to properly do the request. Thanks.**

**Again, thank you guys for all of your support and constructive criticism you have given me throughout the entirety of this story. I appreciate everything and wish that I could take the time to list everyone.**

**So, instead, I have baked a ginormous e-lemon meringue pie, and will give a piece to everyone who has reviewed this fic.**

**THANK YOU!!**

**Now to go work on other fics……**


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